"
I looked appealingly from one stony face to another. In Miss McFadden's
eye there was the somber glint of battle. She said:
"If you can guide us no better than you cook, God save us all this day
week!" And she hurled the contents of her tin plate into Lake Susan W.
Pillsbury.
Mrs. Doolittle Batt arose:
"Come," she said; "it is time we started. What is the name of the first
lake we may hope to encounter?"
We knew no more than did they, but we said that Lake Gladys Doolittle
Batt was the first, hoping to placate that fearsome woman.
"Come on, then!" she cried, picking up her carved and varnished mountain
staff.
Miss Dingleheimer had brought one, too, from the Catskills.
So Kitten Brown and I loaded our mule, set him in motion, and drove him
forward into the unknown.
Where we were going we had not the slightest idea; the margin of the lake
was easy travelling, so easy that we never noticed that we had already
gone around the lake three times, until Mrs. Batt recognized the fact and
turned on us furiously.
I didn't know how to explain it, except to say feebly that I was doing it
as a sort of preliminary canter to harden and inure the ladies.
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