"If Hugh likes to, you might add, Nita," put in Big Dan, smiling at the boy.
"I-—I'd like to," stammered Hugh, bashfully. "Did Father say I could?"
"He did. We asked him, too, but he said he was busy."
Hugh wondered vaguely what was to make Father busy; but the question did not trouble him long. The prospect of breakfast in a real caravan was too entrancing. He glanced at his grimy hands.
'Til have to get clean first," he said. "Have I got time?"
"Plenty if you hurry," said Big Dan. "But I smell bacon, so skip lively."
Hugh was off like a shot. Father was not to be seen about the house; he was rather glad, since it saved the necessity of asking if he ought to put on a coat. Being very hot, he decided not to do so. He brushed his shirt and trousers vigorously, groomed his hair, and sluiced his face and hands. His boots made him hesitate: it was certain that they needed polish, but—had not his host said that he smelt bacon? The boots were forgotten, and Hugh fled.
Nita was waiting for him, perched on the top step of the caravan.
"Come along. Mummy's ready."
He followed her shyly into the interior, the splendors of which made him blink. The yellow curtains were drawn back, so that sunshine flooded in, and the gleam of brass and mirrors was almost overwhelming. Mrs. Dan, wearing