“I thought we were going to get a good luncheon at the Cottage.”
“Well, why not go up and call on the Doctor and Mrs. Emery?” asked Chub. “They’ll be certain to ask us to lunch.”
“It looks too cheeky,” said Roy.
“Think of your minding that!” murmured Chub. Then, “I know!” he exclaimed. “We’ll blow the whistle and maybe some one will come!”
“Good idea!” Dick cried. He darted into the wheel-house and in a moment the whistle was screeching loudly. “That ought to fetch some one,” said he.
Toot-toot-! Toot-toot-toot! said the whistle. Dick kept up the racket for a full minute, and then they awaited results. Several more minutes passed.
“What time is it?” asked Dick. Chub looked at his watch.
“Almost a quarter past one,” he replied. “And they have luncheon at one.”
Dick groaned.
“Listen!” exclaimed Roy. From up the hill came a faint shrill cry.
