“That’s right, Grace, you did have it,” said gentle Amy. “Don’t you recall, you held it in one hand behind your back and told Billy to choose?” Billy was Mollie’s “chummy” name. “That’s so,” admitted Grace. “And Mollie didn’t guess right. I beg your pardon, Mollie. It’s so warm, and the prickly heat bothers me so that I can hardly think of anything but that I’m going in and get some talcum powder. I’ve got some of the loveliest scent—the Yamma-yamma flower from Japan.” “It sounds nice,” murmured Betty. “But, girls——” “Excuse me,” murmured Grace, making a struggle to arise from the hammock—never a graceful feat for girl or woman. “Don’t! You’ll spill me!” screamed Betty, clutching at the yielding sides of the net. “Grace! There!” There would have been a “spill” except that Amy caught the swaying hammock and held it 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! Let me out, and you girls can have it to yourselves. Besides, I want to talk, and I can’t do it sitting down very well.” “You used to,” observed Amy, smoothing out her rather crumpled dress, and making dabs at her warm face with the newly discovered handkerchief. “The kind of talking I’m going to do now calls for action—‘business,’ as the stage people call it,” explained Betty. “I want to walk around and swing my arms. Besides, I can’t properly do justice to the subject sitting down. Oh, girls, I’ve got the grandest surprise for you!” Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed; she seemed electrified with some piece of news. “That’s what you said when you first came,” spoke Mollie, “but we seemed to get off the track. Start over, Betty, that’s a dear, and tell us all about it. Take that willow chair,” and Billy pointed to an artistic green one that harmonized delightfully with the grass, and the gray bark of an apple tree against which it was drawn.