"Billy!" exclaimed Grace, reproachfully, shaking an accusing finger at
her friend.
"Well, you don't like him any more than--than Betty does!"
"Hush!" warned the Little Captain. "He'll hear you."
"I don't care if he does," was the retort.
Gradually the main part of the town had been left as the girls walked
slowly on. Houses were fewer now, and the trees not so large, nor well
cared for. The sun seemed to increase in warmth as it approached the
west, wherein was a bank of fluffy clouds that soon would be turned into
masses of golden, purple and olive.
"Oh, girls, I simply must rest again!" exclaimed Grace, as, with a wry
face, she made for a smooth stump, which was all that was left of a
great oak that had recently been cut down, as it had died, and was in
danger of falling.
"What! Again?" cried Mollie. "Say, Grace, my dear, you never will be able
to keep up with us on the tramp, if you give out so easily now. What is
the matter?"
"Matter? Look at her shoes!" cried Amy. "Such heels!"
"They're not so awful high!" and Grace sought to defend her footwear from
the three pairs of accusing eyes.
"It's a very pretty boot," remarked Betty. "But hardly practical, my
dear.
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