“Will we just walk—­walk all the while?” asked Grace.  “I’m afraid I shan’t be able to keep up to you girls in that case,” and she swung about on the sidewalk in a few steps of a mazy waltz with Amy.

“Of course we won’t walk all the while,” explained Betty.  “I haven’t all the details arranged yet, but we can set a certain number of miles to cover each day.  At night we’ll stop somewhere and rest.”

“That’s good,” sighed Grace, with a glance at her small and daintily shod feet.

“Oh, here comes your brother Will!” Betty called to her.

“And that horrid Percy Falconer is with him,” went on Mollie.  “I—­I can’t bear him!”

“He’s seen Betty—­that’s why he’s hurrying so,” spoke Grace.  “Probably he’s bought a new cane he wants to show her.”

“Stop it!” commanded Betty, with a blush.  “You know I can’t bear him any more than you girls can.”

“You can’t make Percy believe that—­my word!” and Mollie imitated the mannerism perfectly.  For young Falconer, be it known, was partial to good clothes of a rather flashy type, and much given to showing them off.  He had very little good sense—­in fact, what little he had, some of his enemies used to say, he displayed when he showed a preference for pretty Betty Nelson.  But she would have none of his company.

“I don’t see why Will wants to bring him along,” remarked his sister Grace, in a petulant tone.  “He knows we don’t like him.”

“Perhaps Will couldn’t help it,” suggested Amy.

“That’s nice of you to say, Amy,” commented Grace.  “I’ll tell Will—­some time when I get a chance.”

“Don’t you dare!  If you do I’ll never speak to you again!” and the pink surged to a deeper red in Amy’s cheeks.

“Betty’d much rather have Will pick up Allen Washburn,” remarked Mollie, in decisive tones.  “Wouldn’t you, Bet?”

“Oh, please don’t say such things!” besought Betty.  “I don’t see why you always—­”

“Hush, they’ll hear you,” cautioned Grace.  “Let’s pretend we don’t see them.  Hurry up!  I’ve got a quarter, and I’ll treat you to sodas.  Come on in Pierson’s drug store.”

“Too late!” moaned Billy, in mock-tragic tones.  “They are waving to us—­we can’t be too rude.”

Will Ford, the brother of Grace, accompanied by a rather overdressed youth slightly older, had now come up to the group of girls.

“Good afternoon!” greeted Percy Falconer, raising his hat with an elaborate gesture.  “Charming weather we’re having—­my word!” Percy rather inclined to English mannerisms—­or what he thought were such.

“Hello, Sis—­and the rest of you!” said Will, with a more hearty, and certainly a more natural, air.  “What’s doing?”

“Grace was going to treat,” said Amy slowly; “she is so good about that—­only—­”

“Oh, girls!  This is on me!” exclaimed Percy.  “I shall be delighted.  May I have the honor?” and again he took off his hat with an elaborate bow.