"Uncle John built the lodge and made all of the furniture
himself, you know. And he bought the grass rugs from the Indians."
They were still exclaiming about the place when Mrs. Irving called to
them that breakfast was ready. With a whoop of delight they answered
the summons, and a moment later sat themselves down to a most
satisfying meal of omelet and toast and coffee with real cream in it.
Also Mrs. Irving set on the table a yellow-topped pitcher of milk
fresh from the cow.
"Our friend, Lizzie Davis, brought it," their chaperon answered with a
smile, in response to the girls' curious questions. "Also some fresh
butter and eggs, I have an idea," she added, as she got up to refill
the butter plate, "that we shall live on the fat of the land while we
are here."
"Lizzie Davis," repeated Betty, pausing in the act of filling her
glass with fresh milk and regarding Mrs. Irving with dancing eyes.
"Tell me, chaperon dear, Didn't she have nice red cheeks, and wasn't
she delightfully plump?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Irving, smiling at Betty's flushed prettiness.
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