nd was a chocolate, and as she
never would have devoted that to such a purpose, she once more curled up
luxuriously on the sofa.

"Edgemere--on the edge of the ocean," translated Betty. "It's the name
of our cottage. Now, girls, I'm just dying to have you see it. I brought
back some picture postcards of the place. Ocean View is the dearest,
quaintest old fishing village you can imagine. It's like Provincetown,
somewhat, only different, and----"

"What's that?" suddenly interrupted Grace.

"The boys," spoke Mollie. "As if that awful racket could be anything
else."

There sounded on the porch of the Nelson home the heavy tramp of several
feet, and the murmur of eager voices.

"Are the girls here?" someone asked.

"That's my brother, Will--bother! I suppose I have to go home," said
Grace, petulantly.

"I'll go see," offered Betty. "It sounds like more than Will."

"It is!" cried Mollie, peering under the window shade. "There's Amy's
brother, besides Allen Washburn, Roy Anderson and--oh, there's that
johnny--Percy Falconer. What in the world can have brought them all
here?"

"Natural attractions--the magnet--as the flower draws the bee--and so on
and so on," murmured Betty. "I'll ask them in," and she went to meet the
boys whose voices could now be heard in the hall.

CHAPTER III

PREPARATIONS

"Hello, Betty!"

"Is Grace here?"

"Where's Amy? I heard she came this way--oh, yes, they're all here,
boys. We've found the right place."

"Just in time for five o'clock tea, aren't we!"

"What's that? Did Percy get that off? Just for that he sha'n't have any
sweet spirits of nitre!"

A chorus of laughs followed the last remarks, which, in turn, were
uttered after the rather drawling manner of a tall, slim, well-dressed
lad, whose countenance did not betoken any great amount of intelligence.

"Well, it is _time_ for five o'clock tea!" remonstrated the youth who
had been characterized by one of the girls as a "johnny" for want of a
better term.

"Oh, mercy, girls! Percy's got a wrist watch!" gasped Will Ford in
falsetto tones. "The saucy little humming bird! Zip!"

"Behave yourselves or you can't come in!" remonstrated Betty, who had
relieved the maid at the door. "What is this, anyhow; a delegation of
protest or petition?"

"Both," answered Allen Washburn, with a quick, eel-like motion that took
him past his chums and placed him at Betty's side. She blushed a little
at this act, but did not seem