tch Raymonde managed to scramble up the trunk to the place
where the boughs forked. One of these was in a particularly crumbling
and decrepit condition, and she thought that with a strong effort she
might succeed in breaking it off. It was not an easy matter to balance
herself on the fork and stretch out to pull at the branch.

"You'll be over in a sec.!" called Morvyth.

"Bow-wow!" responded Raymonde airily.

She leaned a little farther along, seized the branch with both hands,
and gave a mighty tug. The result was more than she anticipated. The
poor old tree had reached a stage of such interior decay that it was
really only kept together by the bark. The violence of the wrench
upset it to its foundations; it tottered, swayed, and suddenly
descended. The girls picked up Raymonde out of a cloud of dust and a
mass of touchwood. By all strict rules of retribution she ought to
have been hurt, but as a matter of fact she was only a little bruised,
considerably choked with pulverized wood, and very much astonished.
When she recovered her presence of mind, she set to work to break off
pieces from the boughs, which were just exactly what was wanted for
the bonfire fuel.

"Don't tell Gibbie!" she besought the others.

"Right-o! Mum's the word!" her chums assured her. "Bless its little
heart, we wouldn't get it into a scrape! Don't think it of us!"

Miss Beasley's signal sounded at this critical moment, so the Mystic
Seven filed off like vestal virgins to feed the fire which Miss Gibbs,
with her accustomed energy, had already lighted. Their contribution of
wood was so substantial that it drew comment from the rest of the
party, but they received the congratulations with due modesty, and did
not divulge the source of their supply. Most of the girls were too
much interested in proclaiming their own adventures to care to listen
to anybody else's, and the mistresses were busy watching the kettles.
It seemed like camp life over again to be sitting in a circle,
drinking tea out of enamelled mugs, and eating thick pieces of bread
and butter. Miss Beasley had provided a large home-made plum birthday
cake, with a sixpence baked in it, the acquisition of which was
naturally a matter of keen interest to each several girl, until the
lucky slice fell to the lot of Cynthia Greene, who fondled the coveted
coin tenderly.

"I'll have a hole bored through it, and wear it on my chain always, in
memory of you, dear Miss Beasley!" she declar