and hoping that Sally's pleasure would blind her eyes to her brother's
dissatisfaction. He was counting a good deal on the impression his camp
would make. As he thought it would look in the moonlight, with a little
camp fire before it, it seemed to him it must appeal to anybody.

Sally gave a little cry. "There's the grove! How big and dark it looms up
at night! I can smell it before I get near it--in my imagination. I've
been smelling it all these hot days, and longing for it. Oh, what's that
at the back? Didn't you see a flash of something?"

Sally was fairly hanging out of the carriage, her gaze feasting on the
cool depths of gloom under the tall trees, when she caught sight of the
little leaping flames of the camp fire.

"Somebody must be in there," agreed Josephine. "Perhaps it's Mr. Ferry,
who lives next door, in the white cottage. Remember my telling you about
him? Max gave him leave to inhabit the grove all he liked."

"Everything's so dry, he might set it on fire," considered Sally
anxiously.

"You won't fear any such carelessness on his part when you see him,"
Josephine assured her confidently.

The carriage turned in at the gate. In another minute it had reached a
point where the tent began to show from behind a clump of bushes. Sally's
hand clutched Max's shoulder. Her brother was ill-humouredly surveying
the signs of occupancy of the debatable ground.

"Why, there's a tent there!" she cried. "A big tent, and some one in