'"
Libbie's voice rose above the general laughter, and she was quite warm.
For Libbie's was a loyal soul.
"I don't care! I don't believe it. His father is always making fun of
Timothy. He--he is cruel, I think. And, anyway, Timothy was only a little
boy then."
"What did he want to label his Aunty Waite for?" demanded Bob.
"You all be pretty good," called Betty, seeing that Libbie was really
getting angry. "If you aren't I'll ask Timothy and Libbie to my party at
Mountain Camp and none of the rest of you shall go."
"Easy enough said, that, Betty," Bob rejoined. "You haven't very much
chance of going there. But, crimpy! wouldn't it be great if Uncle Dick
did take us?"
"Remember our school duties, children," drawled Louise. "'Still H E ving,
still pursuing.' We must not cry for the moon."
Thus, with a great deal of laughter and good-natured chatter, the
cavalcade trotted on and came finally to what Louise and Bobby said was
the entrance to Bolter's Farm.
"All our horses were raised on this farm," explained Louise. "Daddy says
that Lewis Bolter has the finest stock of any horseman in Virginia.
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