until Grace managed, more or less "gracelessly," to get out.
"There's the empty box," she remarked, as it was disclosed where it had lain hidden between herself and Betty. "Not a crumb left, Amy, my dear. But I fancy I have a fresh box in the house, if Will hasn't found them. He's always—snooping, if you'll pardon my slang."
"I wasn't looking for candy," replied Amy. "It's my handkerchief—that new lace one; I fancied I left it in the hammock."
"Wait, I'll get up," said Betty. "Don't you dare let go, Amy. I don't see why I'm so foolish as to wear this tight skirt. We didn't bother with such style when we were off on our walking tour."
"Oh, blessed tour!" sighed Mollie. "I wish we could go on another one—to the North Pole," and she vigorously fanned herself with a magazine cover.
Betty rose, and Amy found what she was looking for. Grace walked slowly over the shaded lawn toward her house, at which the three chums had gathered this beautiful—if too warm—July day. Betty, Amy, and Mollie made a simultaneous dive for the hammock, and managed, all three, to squeeze into it, with Betty in the middle.
"Oh, dear!" she cried. "This is too much!
