lub for another "spin," he hears a
whistle and a heavy step from across the road. Then an old farmer fellow
of about forty-five, in search of a lost cow, comes to an abrupt and
amazed halt at confronting among the pines Joe, the gray cat, Starrett's
recumbent figure, the tent, and the glimmering tricycle wheels. He
stands speechless until Joe's voice breaks the spell.

"Good-ebenin', sar," says Joe. "Can you tell me if dis is de road to
Curtin Harbor?"

"Curtin Harbor!" exclaims the farmer, with his eyes still full of mute
amazement. "No, it's not. 'T any rate not the direct one. If you've come
over from Harwich, you've gone two miles out of yer way. You should have
taken the other road, back there by the old school-house."

"Dar's whar I missed it!" cries Joe, slapping his knee. "I was suah I
did sumfin' wrong somewhar, but I couldn't locate it, to save me! I'se
much obliged."

"You can cut across to the main road by crossing my field yonder and
going up by the house just beyond----"

"Hi, den dere is a house over yar!" says Joe.

"Why, certainly," says the farmer, "not more than forty rods from here."
And when Joe finds how very near he has been to a comfortable farmhouse
he says he feels "like kickin' hisself."

"But," says the visitor, still eying the camp. "How did it all happen.
Are you traveling on foot?"

"No, sar; on tricycles," explains Joe, proudly; "we are de Girls'
Tricycle Club, all de way from Sherridoc, wid Mas'r Starrett an' me
along to look arter 'em and see 'em safe down to Curtin Harbor. We los'
de track back yondah, an' de young gemman an' I jes' rig up dis tent for
to keep the young ladies dry an' gib 'em a chance to rest till de shower
was ober."

The farmer's surprise grows to interest.

"And so this is a tricycle," he says. "And did the young ladies ride
those things all the way from Sherridoc?"

"All de way, sar," answers Joe, proudly, "'cept when we wus stuck in de
Sandywiches and had to be carted froo wid a team."

After the good man's curiosity has been satisfied, and Starrett has
summoned the girls to appear, the worthy farmer strolls off after his
lost cow, first inviting the club to the farm to another supper. One by
one, the girls emerge from their camp, but when they hear how near to a
house they have been during the rain, great is the laughter.

"I don't care, though," cries Cornelia Hadwin; "we've really had a sort
of a camping-out time, and I'm glad of it."

After h