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“Do—do what?” asked Matty.

“Pull my freight; hit the trail; move along. Which way did you say Mrs. Westcott’s was?”

“We didn’t say,” replied Matty, “but it’s the next house to ours, around the corner on Bow Street. Must you go now?”

“I suppose so, pretty soon anyway. Won’t take me long to get there, though, I guess.”

“Only a minute or two. If you like you can go through our garden. There’s a place where you can get through the hedge. I suppose you came on the boat, didn’t you?”

Rodney nodded.

“Most of the boys come on the train that gets here about four. Don’t you think the Hudson River is perfectly beautiful?”

He did, but pretended he didn’t. “Rather pretty in spots,” he answered patronizingly. “We’ve got rivers out west——”

“O-oh!” exclaimed May from her post, with a protesting wriggle. “You know it’s beautiful! It—it’s wonderful!”

“It’s called the American Rhine,” added Matty conclusively, “and I guess that settles it! And you needn’t say you’ve got rivers in your state that are finer, because you haven’t, and we don’t believe it!”