ty, clapping her hands joyfully and
executing a little dance about the room. "Honey and biscuits--I could
make a meal of them alone. Mrs. Irving, show me the stove--lead me to
it--and I'll make the biscuits," she finished importantly.

"Mrs. Irving," Grace pleaded, turning to the chaperon, "you are the only
one here who could possibly make Betty do anything that she didn't want
to do or stop her doing anything she had set her heart on. Won't you
please interfere for the sake of the community? It might really be
dangerous," she added plaintively.

"Don't worry," Mollie put in. "I have eaten Betty's biscuits of old,
and, believe me, they are good. All I ask is that you hustle,
Betty--shoo----" And she hurried the willing Little Captain before her
into the kitchen.

Mrs. Irving followed more slowly with Amy and Grace, and they were just
in time to hear Mollie's last sentence: "Where have the boys
disappeared to?"

"They're out yonder in the woods," Mrs. Irving replied, indicating a
spot beyond the cottage. "They were up very early this morning--couldn't
wait to get the tents up. Allen left word that they would stop around in
a couple of hours to say good-afternoon to you girls--if you happened to
be up by that time," and the little chaperon's eyes twinkled as she saw
the look of rising indignation in the girls' faces.

"If we happen to be up, indeed," sniffed Betty, bustling around the
kitchen in a business-like fashion, sorting out pans and getting out the
flour, which Mollie's aunt had very thoughtfully left in the larder. "If
they talk like that much more, they won't get any of my biscuits. Just
wait till they smell them, girls--they will go down on their knees."

"Yes, the only way to manage boys is to feed them well," sighed Amy,
with a funny air of knowing all there was to be known about men.

"Oh, Amy! Amy!" gasped Mollie, "you will be the death of me yet. Anybody
would actually think, to hear you talk, that you had really had some
experience. Say, Betty," she added, regarding the doughy mixture--the
result of Betty's skillful manipulation, "that looks mighty
interesting--I shouldn't mind learning how to make them myself."

"Oh, it's lots of fun," Betty affirmed, cutting out the biscuits with an
improvised cutter--this last being the top of a baking powder can. "Only
take my advice," she went on, standing with the cover poised in the air
and speaking earnestly. "Don't try it on your family first--they never