said one.

Another, with a mischievous laugh, whisked out her handkerchief and in a
flash had twisted it into a rabbit with flopping ears. "Bunny, bunny,
bunny!" she called, making the rabbit hop across her lap.

Myra's blue eyes filled with angry tears. "You're horrid, Louise
Johnson!" she cried out. "You're _all_ horrid. But I'll show you!" and
with a glance that swept the whole laughing group, she threw back her
head and marched on.

The girls looked after her and then at each other.

"Believe she'll really do it?" one questioned doubtfully.

"Not she. Maybe she'll get as far as the village," replied another.

"She'd never dare pass Slabtown alone--never in the world," a third
declared with decision.

"Poor Myra, I'm sorry for her. It must be awful to be scared at
everything as she is!" This from Mary Hastings, a big blonde who did not
know what fear was.

"Bunny certainly is the scariest girl in this camp," laughed Louise
Johnson carelessly. "She's afraid of her own shadow."

"Then she ought to have more credit than the rest of us when she does do
a brave thing," put in little Bess Carroll in her gentle way.

"We'll give her credit all right _if_ she goes to Kent's Corners,"
retorted Louise.

Just then another girl ran up to the group and announced that a
blueberry picnic had been arranged. Somebody had discovered a pasture
where the bushes were loaded with luscious fruit. They would carry
lunch, and bring back enough for a regular blueberry festival.

"All who want to go, get baskets or pails and come on," the girl ended.

In an instant the others were on their feet, work thrown aside, and five
minutes later there was no one but the cook left in the camp.

[Illustration: A group of girls busy over beadwork]

By that time Myra Karr was tramping steadily on towards Kent's Corners.
Scarcely another girl in the camp would have minded that walk, but never
before had she dared to take it alone; now in spite of her nervous
fears, she felt a little thrill of incredulous pride in herself. So many
times she had planned to do this thing, but always before her courage
had failed. Now, now she was really doing it! And if she went all the
way perhaps--O, perhaps the girls would stop calling her Bunny. How she
hated that name! She hurried on, her heart beating hard, her hands
tight-clenched, her eyes fearfully searching the long sunny road before
her and the woods or fields that bordered it. It was not so bad th