high land, with trees about it, and a grove that quite hid the back road from sight. When Fritz returned, it was easy to see that he had secured his uncle’s approval of Mrs. Redmond’s plan,—
“Only he says that he hopes we won’t be set on fire, or anything of that kind,” cried Fritz, with rather an amused expression; “as if we were babies!”
“Remember that eye of yours,” and Mrs. Redmond shook her head significantly.
“Yes, ’m, yes, ’m,” rejoined Fritz. “Oh, Amy, uncle gave me another dollar!” he almost shouted, as Amy appeared, looking very happy in her dark serge skirt and light-blue shirt waist. Fritz was still in knickerbockers, to his own great annoyance, as he had really passed the age when boys are supposed to wear those picturesque garments. His uncle had promised to let him give them up in the autumn; and in the mean time he really looked like most of the other lads of his age who spent half the summer on wheels. Fritz, himself, however, had to take what comfort he could out of the clothes, for a bicycle was one of the things that he was not permitted to have—on account of its danger.
“When you and I have bicycles, what fun we ’ll have spinning over the country,” he said to Amy, as they walked the half mile which they had to traverse before they could reach the electric car.
“When I have a bicycle!” exclaimed Amy, a little bitterly; “you will probably be in Europe or Hindostan—or somewhere with your father.”
