made there. Betty was delighted and at once set
to work to prepare the luncheon they were to take with them.

"We'll find a nice cosy place along the brook and have a picnic there,"
she told Mrs. Peterson.

"I'm afraid there will not be many cosy places," was the reply. "You
must be prepared for great changes up the brook."

David and Betty were like two children off for a holiday as they left
the Haven and walked gaily down the lane toward the main highway. It
was a perfect morning, and the perfume of clover from the expansive
meadows scented the air. Birds were darting here and there or
twittering from the branches of the trees. A short distance from the
road, and partly concealed, a white tent nestled among the trees,
though no sign of the artist was to be seen. Betty breathed a sigh of
relief when they were past. She did not wish to see Bramshaw, to whom
she had taken such a violent dislike. She wondered where he was at
that time of the morning. Perhaps he was still asleep, she thought,
for she knew that he prowled about late at night.

The tent was a small one, such as is generally used by campers. It was
in a beautiful situation, and it was so placed that it commanded an
excellent view of the Haven and the lane leading to it. It was a
common occurrence for people from the city to camp along the river
during the summer months, and people did not wonder about this one
among the trees. They all knew that Bramshaw was an artist of some
note, and they felt rather pleased that he had come to Creekdale to
obtain some pictures.

"I am glad we didn't meet that artist this morning," Petty remarked
after they had left the tent out of sight.

"I cannot understand your dislike to the man," David replied. "He has
been so civil to us both, and he is very fond of hearing about the work
at the falls, and how the whole community will be benefited."

"I can't help it, Mr. David," and Betty twirled the sunbonnet she was
carrying in her hand, as was often her custom. "He may be all right,
but I don't like him. I wish he would go away and never come back.
Isn't it strange how some people spoil everything? We are so happy
this morning because we are going to the falls together, and yet as
soon as I think of that man I shiver. I don't understand it at all."

"You'll get over it in time, Betty," David replied. "But, see, what a
change they have made in our path. Why, it's a regular road now."

"I don't like i