when you can
just as well say it to-night?" Yet for all his masculine assumption of
superiority to sentiment Graham was conscious of a little pang of
disappointment as he and Jack passed Dolittle Cottage, in the dewy
freshness of the summer morning. He had more than half expected to see a
hand or two flutter at a window, in token that their departure was not
unnoticed.

"'How can I bear to leave thee,'" hummed Jack under his breath, and his
smile was a little mischievous. Graham regarded him disdainfully, and
Jack, breaking off his song, hastened to say: "Well, they're as nice a
crowd of girls as we'd find anywhere, if we tramped from here to the
Pacific coast."

"You're right about that," Graham returned, mollified, and then the
boys, turning the bend of the road, halted as abruptly as if a
highwayman had checked their advance. For hidden from sight by a tangled
thicket of underbrush and vines, five girls in white shirt-waists and
short skirts were waiting their arrival. The girls shrieked delightedly
at the amazement depicted on the countenances of the two knights of the
road.

"Now, don't try to pretend that you were expecting this all the time.
You know you never thought of it," Ruth cried, slipping her hand through
her brother's arm, and giving it a fond squeeze.

"Of course I never thought of it. Only a girl could originate such a
brilliant idea." The assumed sarcasm of Graham's rejoinder could not
conceal his pleasure, and Ruth flashed a satisfied glance at Peggy, who
met it with a twinkle of understanding.

"We're only going to walk about a mile," explained Peggy, as the
procession moved forward. "We know you want to make a record, your first
day out. And, besides, we haven't had a real breakfast yet, only
crackers and milk."

It was a long mile that they traversed before parting company, as the
girls found when they came to retrace their steps. Familiar as they
thought themselves with the vicinity, the sunrise world was full of
delightful surprises. There was magic in the air, and the winding road
lured them ahead, as if it had been an enchanted path leading to
fairyland.

"I wish somebody'd go away early every morning," Amy sighed from a full
heart, "and give us an excuse for getting up early. To think of sleeping
away hours like this."

"It's a pity we didn't leave long ago," suggested Jack Rynson, between
whom and Amy there existed a sort of armed truce, "so that you could
discover what a countr