when she came out of the dressing-room, wrapped in her long
party-cloak, she saw him standing by the door. "Good night!" he said,
waving his plumed helmet. Then, with a mischievous smile, he sang in an
undertone:

"Go bid the princess in the tower
Forget all thought of sorrow.
Her true knight will return to her
With joy, on some glad morrow."

CHAPTER XIV.

IN CAMP

Several miles from Lloydsboro Valley, where a rapid brook runs by the
ruins of an old paper-mill, a roaring waterfall foams and splashes. Even
in the long droughts of midsummer it is green and cool there, for the
spray, breaking on the slippery stones, freshens the ferns on the bank,
and turns its moss to the vivid hue of an emerald. Near by, in an open
pasture, sloping down from a circle of wooded hills, lies an ideal spot
for a small camp.

It was here that Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison came one warm afternoon, the
Monday following the entertainment, with a wagonette full of children.
Ranald, Malcolm, Keith, and Rob Moore had ridden over earlier in the day
to superintend the coloured men who dug the trenches and pitched the
tents. By the time the wagonette arrived, fuel enough to last a week was
piled near the stones where the camp-fire was laid, and everything was in
readiness for the gay party. Flags floated from the tent poles, and
Dinah, the young coloured woman who was to be the cook, came up from the
spring, balancing a pail of water on her head, smiling broadly.

As the boys and girls swarmed out and scurried away in every direction
like a horde of busy ants, Mrs. Walton turned to her sister with a laugh.
"Did we lose any of them on the way, Allison? We'd better count noses."

"No, we are all here: eight girls, four boys, the four already on the
field, Dinah and her baby, and ourselves, twenty in all."

"Twenty-one, counting Hero," corrected Mrs. Walton, as the great St.
Bernard went leaping after Lloyd, sniffing at the tents, and barking
occasionally to express his interest in the frolic. "He seems to be
enjoying it as much as any of us."

"I wish that they were all as able to take care of themselves as he is. It
would save us a world of anxiety. Do you begin to realise, Mary, what a
load of responsibility we have taken on our shoulders? Sixteen boys and
girls to keep out of harm's way for a week in the woods is no easy
matter."

"We'll keep them so busy that they'll have no time for mischief. The
wagonette