I won't say the word."

"If our Gridley boys are ashamed to be seen with us just because
they're in rough camp attire," said Laura gently, "then we haven't
as much reason to be proud of them as we thought we had."

"I'm answered," Dick admitted humbly. "Lead on, then. We'll
take comfort from our company, and hold our heads as high as we
can."

On to the wide hotel porch, where many well-dressed people sat,
the girls conducted the two delegates from the canoe club. However,
none of the guests on the porch paid any particular attention
to Dick and Dave. Both campers and canoers were common enough
at this summer resort.

It was Clara who led the way into a parlor, in one corner of which
there was a writing desk. Dick seated himself at the desk, and
after a moment's thought began to write, then promptly became
absorbed in his task. Dave and the girls seated themselves at
a little distance, chatting in low tones.

There were other guests of the Hotel Pleasant in the parlor, while
still others passed in or out from time to time.

One young man, quite fashionably dressed, stepped into the parlor,
looked about him, then started as his glance fell on Dick and Dave.

It was Fred Ripley.