russets----"

"Nothing perishable," protested Nancy. "It will be quite suitable, of
course. It's a mountain costume I saw in a French fashion magazine, and
it was really intended for an Alpine climber; only it was much fancier.
The French lady in the picture wore a lace jabot and high-heeled shoes,
and she carried an Alpine stock with a pink bow tied just below the
crook."

"Was the skirt hobble?" demanded Billie.

"It sounds to me like a Little Bo-Peep costume," put in Mary Price.

"I think one should dress quite quietly on a camping party," observed
Elinor Butler.

Mr. Campbell seized his hat.

"My only advice to you, ladies," he announced as he reached the door,
"is to wear shoes that won't turn your ankles; skirts that give you
plenty of leeway for climbing, and shirts that may be easily washed,
because laundries are not abundant in those regions. As for hats," he
finished, "you'll probably not wear any after the first day, even the
latest thing from the Alps trimmed with the tail feather of a pheasant.
As for colors, the first time you go camping you'll probably let your
fancy run riot and wear Assyrian purple or crushed strawberry. But the
next time, you'll pass right down the line until you get to brown,
because you will know by that time that brown fades brown. If campers
had been born wild animals instead of human beings, Nature would surely
have provided them with brown coats for utilitarian as well as
protective purposes."

"I thought we could just wear old clothes," put in Mary Price,
doubtfully. "I didn't know people had costumes made for camping."

Mr. Campbell thrust his genial, handsome face back into the room.

"Camping clothes are like bathing suits," he remarked. "After the first
wetting or so, they all look alike."

"I'm sure blue corduroy will last," cried Nancy. "The man at the store
said it was unfadeable."

"You mean that curly-haired clerk who wears the ruby scarf pin?"
laughed Billie. "What's his name?"

"Delosia Moxley," answered Elinor. "He is always giving Nancy pointers
about the latest modes. He was responsible for that Spanish veil she
would wear last winter----"

"He was not," interrupted Nancy. "He merely told me they were the
fashion in New York. I needn't have bought it if I hadn't wanted to."

"I suppose he furnished that French lady's Alpine costume, too, didn't
he, Nancy Bell?"

Nancy smiled good-naturedly. She never really minded being teased about
her elabora