"It sounds alluring," said Henrietta. "Suppose we all go, just as we are!" "We could," cried Billy. "Why, Dad, we could do it easily. I have that linen dress I wore yesterday, and my brush and comb and things, and you have yours." "But the general and Henrietta," objected Bartlett. "They only ran up here for the day, my dear. They may not have anything." "Yes, we have," cried Henrietta, "We planned to stay a week or two and sent a trunk along. We could easily pack a suit-case." "Oh!" exclaimed Billy. "Do let’s do it." "I noticed a suit-case in your car, Batchelor," Bartlett turned to the Watermelon, genially. "I judge you are planning to take a few days’ jaunt somewhere." "I was thinking of it," acknowledged the Watermelon, with truth, lounging gracefully in the doorway. Bartlett laughed. "We are crazy, all of us," said he and waved the suggestion aside as a whimsical fancy best forgotten. "Oh, Daddy, please," teased Billy. "But, Billy, child, the others don’t want to do it, the general or Batchelor." "I want to," said Henrietta, "and so does the general. Father, wouldn’t you like to take a trip in the car somewhere for a week or two?" The general’s attention had wandered back to the car. He turned abstractedly. "Do what, Henrietta?" "Take a trip in the car for a week or two." "Yes, we must plan one later, as we did last summer." "But we mean now, father, start right now." "Now? Henrietta, you’re foolish, my dear." "No, indeed, father. Why not now? ’Do it now’ is your favorite motto, you know." "It is impossible," and the general, also, dismissed the subject. Bartlett thrust his hands in his pockets and appeared absorbed in his car. He knew Billy. "Why impossible?" asked Billy, laying a small hand on the general’s arm. "You were going to spend a week here. Why not spend it in your car? You have no engagement, have you?" "No," said the general, smiling into her pretty face. "But what about clothes?" "Clothes," laughed Billy, "why, clothes—" "Be hanged," said the Watermelon. Bartlett laughed. "Quite so. Wash out on the line, general. Better come." "Pretend the Indians have risen," said Henrietta, "and you are given an hour to get into marching order." "Ah, yes," cried the eager Billy, patting the arm she clung to. "You used to do it, General, why, in half an hour, out on the plains." "What do you know about it, puss?" asked the general. "Didn’t you?" pleaded Billy. "Yes," said the general, who always gave in to a pretty woman. "I used to. In those days we were always ready for a fight." "So you will go? I knew you would." "But Mr. Batchelor may have to return to the city," suggested Henrietta, glancing at the Watermelon.