d the camp,
pursued by Don, with the others following.

"Oh, auntie!" she panted, "he's going to--going to--" she paused, with
cheeks burning.

"It's forfeits, Mrs. Murray," explained Don.

"Hoot, lassie," said Mrs. Cameron; "it will not much hurt you, anyway.
They that kiss in the light will not kiss in the dark."

"She played, and lost her forfeit," said Don, unwilling to be jeered at
by the others for faint-heartedness. "She ought to pay."

"I'm afraid, Don, she does not understand our ways," said Mrs. Murray,
apologetically.

"Be off, Don," said his mother. "Kiss Marget there, if you can--it will
not hurt her--and leave the young lady alone."

"It's just horrid of them, auntie," said Maimie, indignantly, as the
others went back to their games.

"Indeed," said Mrs. Cameron, warmly, "if you will never do worse than
kiss a laddie in a game, it's little harm will be coming to you."

But Maimie ignored her.

"Is it not horrid, auntie?" she said.

"Well, my dear, if you think so, it is. But not for these girls, who
play the game with never a thought of impropriety and with no shock to
their modesty. Much depends on how you think about these things."

But Maimie was not satisfied. She was indignant at Don for offering
to kiss her, but as she stood and watched the games going on under the
trees--the tag, the chase, the catch, and the kiss--she somehow began to
feel as if it were not so terrible after all, and to think that perhaps
these girls might play the game and still be nice enough. But she had
no thought of going back to them, and so she turned her attention to
the preparations for tea, now almost complete. Her aunt and Ranald were
toasting slices of bread at the big blazing fire, on forks made out of
long switches.

"Let me try, auntie," she said, pushing up to the fire between her aunt
and Ranald. "I am sure I can do that."

"Be careful of that fire," said Ranald, sharply, pulling back her skirt,
that had blown dangerously near the blaze. "Stand back further," he
commanded.

Mamie looked at him, surprise, indignation, and fear struggling for the
mastery. Was this the awkward boy that had blushed and stammered before
her a week ago?

"It's very dangerous," he explained to Mrs. Murray, "the wind blows out
the flames."

As he spoke he handed Maimie his toasting stick and retired to the other
side of the fire, and began to attend to the boiling sap.

"He needn't be such a bear," pouted Maimie.