"We must make it up to her somehow. I was
afraid she would cry at dinner this evening."
"She's a good kid," agreed Bobby. "But are you sure, Betty, that we can
go to the mountains? Just think! Eight of us!"
"Some contract for Mr. Gordon," observed Tommy Tucker with unusual
reflection.
"How about it's being some contract for Mr. and Mrs. Canary?" suggested
Bob Henderson. "Maybe they will shy at such a crowd."
"I asked Uncle Dick about that," Betty said eagerly. "He told me all about
Mr. and Mrs. Canary. He has known them for years and years. They must be
awfully nice people and they have got a great, big, rambling bungalow sort
of house, all built of logs in the rough. But inside there is a heating
plant, and electric lights, and shower baths, and everything up-to-date.
Mr. Canary is very wealthy; but his money could not keep him from getting
tuber--tuber----"
"'Tubers,'" said Bob with gravity, "are potatoes, or something of that
kind."
"Now, Bob! you know what I mean very well," cried Betty. "His lungs were
affected. But they have healed and he is perfectly well as long as he
stays up there in the wilderness.
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