n to rough it,--it'll be good for you. You're as
white as a sheet, and you ought to be all brown and red and freckled and
look like a real live girl instead of a wax doll. I'm going to coax Dad
to go camping next year. It's loads of fun. Maybe if Bob Rose gets up
there before you leave they'd ask me up for a couple of days."

"Or they might ask you after I've left," said Dolly; "you boys could
have a lot of fun even if we girls weren't there."

"You bet we could! Girls are not a necessity to a fellow's pleasure if
he has fishing and boating and swimming and such things to do."

"Well, I can't swim and I hate to fish,--but I do like boating. What
kind of boats will they have, Bob?"

"Oh, motor boats and canoes and rowboats and sail boats and every old
kind. Don't get drowned, Dolly, and don't break any more of your bones,
but I guess there's nothing much else that can happen to you, if you
behave yourself. But don't try to do everything Dotty suggests. She's a
hummer, that girl, and I'll bet you in camp she'll run wild. You'll have
to hold her back a little."

Dolly's parents gave her practically the same advice. But they felt
little fear of Dolly's likelihood of rushing into madcap adventures even
if Dotty urged it. For Dolly was slow of movement and slower still in
making up her mind; while Dotty was quick as a flash in thought and
action.

Mrs. Fayre sighed a little as she selected Dolly's wardrobe. She dearly
loved to array her pretty daughter in muslins and organdies with dainty
laces and ribbons; but camp life called for stout frocks of tweed or
gingham, heavy walking boots and no fripperies.

"I shall put in one or two pretty dresses," Mrs. Fayre said, "in case
you are invited to a party or any such affair. And the rest of your
summer things I will have ready for you, when you come back and join us
at the seashore."

* * * * *

And so the first of August, Mr. and Mrs. Rose and their two daughters
with Dolly as the guest started for the Crosstrees Camp.

It was a sad parting between Dolly and her mother and at the last Dolly
declared flatly she would not go, and throwing herself in her mother's
arms burst into tears.

"Rubbish!" cried Rob, who was dancing about in his efforts to get Dolly
started. "I'm ashamed of you, Towhead! Brace up now, and have a nerve.
One final wrench and off you go!"

The boy literally tore Dolly from Mrs. Fayre's arms and boosted her in
to the