said slowly; "fear you'll do
yourself a hurt pulling on the reins. Frank hasn't been out since
yesterday."

"I'll risk him!" said Gerald. "Now, Margaret." He held out his hand, and
Margaret stepped lightly up to the seat of the Concord wagon.

"Now," said Gerald, "Jack, if you'll drive the beach-wagon--is that all
right, Toots?"

"Certainly!" said Gertrude. "Peggy, you and I will sit together behind;
that is, if you do not mind the front seat, Colonel Ferrers? So! all
right now, Jack! we'd better let the old horse go first, for he doesn't
like to stay behind the new one. Oh! Jacob! how are you going home? we
must make room for you somewhere."

"I'll go across lots," said the blue youth, "and be there to take the
horses when you get there. You better hurry them up the least mite, so's
I sha'n't have to wait too long!"

With a benign smile he vaulted over a five-barred gate, and went with a
long, leisurely stride across the fields.

"He'll run when he gets round the corner!" said Gerald. "I know that's
the way he does it. Get up, Frank! do _play_ you are alive, just for
once. Oh, Margaret, I am so glad to see you. I thought September would
never come. It has been the longest summer I ever knew. Haven't you
found it so?"

"Why, no!" said truthful Margaret. "It has seemed very short to me."

"Oh, well, of course it has been short too, summers always are; like the
dachshund!"

"The dachshund!" repeated Margaret. "What can a dachshund have to do
with summer, Gerald?"

"A description I once heard," said Gerald. "I was walking with Beppo, my
dachs, and a little boy stopped to look at him. 'Ain't he long?' he
said. 'My! ain't he short?' Even so summer. Oh, I _am_ glad to see you.
Get up, Frank!"

CHAPTER II.

THE CAMP

[Illustration: "'HERE IS YOURS,' SAID BELL; 'NEXT TO OURS.'"]

A LONG, low, irregular building, with a wide verandah in front, the lake
rippling and ruffling almost up to the piers; beyond, great hills
rolling up and away. To right and left, boat-houses and tents; hammocks
swung between the trees, fishing-rods ranged along the sides of the
building. This was the Camp. As the wagons drove up, Mrs. Merryweather
hurried from the house, and Mr. Merryweather and Phil came up with long
strides from the wharf. Amid a chorus of eager welcome, a babel of
questions and answers, the travellers were helped out and escorted to
the verandah.

"Most welcome, all!" cried Mrs. Merryweather. "Are you ve