camp without a councilor; in fact, she sometimes
acted as councilor to the younger girls when a trip had to be made and
no councilor was free. Mrs. Grayson would willingly have trusted any
girl to Mary's care--or the whole camp, for that matter, should occasion
arise, knowing that her good sense and judgment could be relied upon. So
Agony, under Mary's wing, received the permission that otherwise would
not have been given her.

"Yes, it will be all right for you to go in your bloomers," said Mrs.
Grayson, in answer to Agony's question on the subject. "Our girls
always wear them to the villages about here; the people are accustomed
to seeing them. That green bloomer suit of yours is very pretty, Agony,"
she added, "even prettier than our regulation blue ones."

"I spilled syrup on my regular blue ones," replied Agony, "and had to
wash them out this morning; that's why I'm wearing these green ones. Do
you mind if I break up the camp color scheme for one day?"

"Not at all, under the circumstances," replied Mrs. Grayson, with a
smile. "If it's going to be a choice of green bloomers or none at all--"
She waved the laughing girls away and returned to the knotty problem in
accounts she had been working on when interrupted.

"Isn't she lovely?" exclaimed Mary enthusiastically, as they came out of
the bungalow and walked along the Alley path toward Gitchee-Gummee to
get Agony's hat. "She has such a way of trusting us girls that we just
couldn't disappoint her."

"She is lovely," echoed Agony, as they went up the steps of
Gitchee-Gummee.

"I think I'll leave a note for the girls telling them I won't be back at
supper time," said Agony, hastily pulling out her tablet. "They will be
wondering what has become of me."

It gave her no small thrill of pleasure to write that note and tuck it
under Hinpoha's hairbrush on the table: "Gone on a long hike with Mary
Sylvester; won't be back until bed time." How delightfully important and
prominent that sounded! The others admired Mary, too, but none of them
had been invited to go on a long hike with her. She, Agony, was being
drawn into that intimate inner circle of the Alley dwellers to which she
had hitherto aspired in vain.

They were soon across the river, with the boat fastened in the bushes,
and, leaving the shore, struck straight into the woods, following a path
that curved and twisted, but carried them ever toward the north, in the
direction where Atlantis lay. The way was