When they reached the crossroads Chet had not yet appeared, so they rested in the shade of the trees until at length the chubby youth came panting along the road, his lunch under his arm.

“If I only had my roadster I wouldn’t be late,” he said, as he came up to them. “I’ve been so used to it that I’ve forgotten how long it takes to walk this far.”

“Well, are we all set?” asked Frank.

“Everybody’s here. Where are we going?”

“What do you say to Willow Grove?”

“All those in favor say ‘Aye,’ ” demanded Chet, and there was a chorus of “Aye” from the crowd.

“It’s unanimous,” Chet decided. “Willow Grove it shall be. Let’s go.”