'Are you writing a copy-book, Miss Oliver? I didn't want to listen;
it was very painful to my feelings, but I was too sleepy to move.'
'And now our afternoon is gone, and we have not read a word,' sighed
little Margery. 'I never met two such chatterboxes as you and
Polly.'
'And to hear us talk is a liberal education,' retorted Polly.
'Exactly,' said Philip, dryly, 'Come, I'll take the books and shawls.
It's nearly five o'clock, and we shall hear Hop Yet blowing his lusty
dinner-horn presently.'
'Why didn't you go off shooting with the others?' asked Margery.
'Stayed at home so they'd get a chance to shoot.'
'Why, do you mean you always scare the game away?' inquired Polly,
artlessly.
'No; I mean that I always do all the shooting, and the others get
discouraged.'
'Clasp hands over the bloody chasm,' said Bell, 'and let us smoke the
pipe of peace at dinner.'
Philip and Bell came through the trees, and, as they neared the camp,
saw Aunt Truth sitting at the door of Tent Chatter, looking the very
picture of comfort, as she drew her darning-needle in and out of an
unseemly rent in one of Dicky's stockings. Margery and Polly came up
just behind, and dropped into her lap some beautiful branches of wild
azalea.
'Did you have a pleasant walk, dears?' she asked.
'Yes, indeed, dear auntie. Now, just hold your head perfectly still,
while we decorate you for dinner. We will make Uncle Doc's eyes
fairly pop with admiration.
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