everett braggen had not exaggerated the prospective gayety of the snailsdale house, for the very next day the semi-weekly county paper contained among the “snailsdale local items” the following:
august will be gay at the snailsdale house, every room and both cottages being engaged for the balance of the season. mr. skimper, the genial proprietor, expects a bevy of youth and several notables at the week-end.
among these is the talented pianist, clamordinevich vociferinski, whose recitals at harmonica hall created such a stir in the metropolis. several students of hydome university are also expected to impart the usual college pep into our summer colony. chester (better known as chesty) marshall, son of general botchly marshall, is also expected. chesty is known as the best dancer at west point. mr. a. pylor koyn, of the banking house of koyn & minter, is another expected guest at the popular hotel, and will soon be followed by his family, which is returning from europe.
hope stillmore read this with joy and expectancy bubbling in her heart. she felt as pee-wee felt when he was confronted with several desserts; she did not know which to choose among all these subjects for conquest. already her heart was a little fickle to the “two perfectly lovely fellows” in favor of the lion of harmonica hall.
but then again she fancied the arrowlike form of chesty marshall, looking like a soldier in a toy noah’s ark, and the joy of conquering a conqueror was strong within her. mr. a. pylor koyn would be out of the game, of course, but his family, coming from europe might contain good material for conquest. hope fell back on pee-wee’s expedient in a difficult choice and chose them all....
on friday everett braggen, apparently committed to long trousers for good and all, arrived in his ford and hope and her mother bade farewell to goodale manor farm. poor mrs. stillmore seemed quite overcome, as she kissed kind old mrs. goodale again and again. “hope is simply going to dance off the nine pounds that she gained here, that’s what i tell her,” the good lady whispered. “but there’s no holding her down; she always has her own way. her father has spoiled her.”
“don’t you blame the men now,” said mr. goodale cheerily; “girls will be girls and so will boys, as the fellers says.” and he patted hope on her shoulder in his friendly, fatherly way. “when you get all done cavortin’ you jes’ make that army feller get an army stretcher n’ you have him n’ that bolsheviki feller carry you down here and we’ll put them nine pound back onter you again, now there,” he said. it may be said to hope’s credit that she cried a little at leaving.
as for scout harris he had washed his hands of the fair traitor altogether. but he had not washed his face, for he came around at his mother’s call, a great smutch like a comet across his round countenance, and submitted himself to the parting handshakes. he had been putting the finishing touches on his float of which he was now the sole commander and engineer.
“i hope you have just a fine time at the parade, walter,” hope said.
“you leave it to me,” said pee-wee coldly.
“and when i see you i’m going to wave. if you hear someone shouting to you, you’ll know who it is.”
“girls don’t know how to shout,” said pee-wee. he certainly ought to have known for he was a specialist in that art.
