He got in boat--I go in boat.
Betty no care--does oo?"

"No, dear, not about my boat. But----"

"You were very, very naughty!" said Mollie, severely, "and sister
doesn't love you any more. Naughty Paul!"

The sensitive lip of the toddler began pursing outward, quivering. His
eyes filled with tears. Then catching sight of Grace, who, with the
others, formed a circle about the recovered lost one, Paul smiled
through the gathering mist of tears and asked:

"Oo dot any tandy?"

And he laughed with them as Grace produced some chocolates in a bag. And
no one remarked on her failing--that time, at least.

Paul was soon in bed, having made many promises not to offend again.
Then Will went back with Amy, Mr. Blackford escorting Betty and Grace,
who lived near each other. The girls promised to meet again next day,
but this was hardly necessary, since scarcely a day passed that they
were not together--"inseparables," they had been dubbed.

Of course for the next few days little was talked of except the prospect
of going to the winter camp. From the parents of the three, tentative
permission had been wrung, Grace's father and mother being much in favor
of her making the trip.

"Her lungs are none too strong," Mr. Ford had said to his wife, "and the
winter in the pine woods will do her good."

"If only there is no danger!"

"Danger! Nonsense!" Mr. Ford had exclaimed.

But he did not know what was in prospect, or he might not have been so
positive. Even as it was, a few days later brought unpleasant news to
him.

He had been in correspondence with the old lumberman and his wife, and
had practically arranged for them to take charge of the camp, and look
after the girls, who would occupy one of the large cabins, if they went
to the woods. Then came a letter from a brother lawyer who was looking
after some details of the receivership.

"By Jove! That makes it bad!" exclaimed Mr. Ford on reading this
communication.

"What is it, Daddy?" asked Grace, who happened to be in the library with
her father when the mail came in.

"Why, Travert writes me that Jallow has begun cutting timber on the
strip that is in dispute. Valuable timber, too, that I'm sure belongs to
me. This is contrary to the ruling of the court. I must stop this if I
have to come to an open fight!"

"Oh, Father, will this stop us going to camp?"

"No, not necessarily. The strip is far enough away from the camp itself.
I don't know but what it will be