Honor for you, Harriet."

"I'll agree to all that if Harriet will take back what she said about
my being an old maid," said Hazel with mock dignity.

"I didn't call you an old maid, my dear," denied the impromptu poet
pertly. "I merely said, or meant to say, that the idea you expressed
might better be expected from an old maid, although I doubt if many
old maids could have expressed it as well as you did."

"Girls, Girls, are you going to turn our vacation into a two-weeks
repartee bee?" Marion broke in with affected desperation. "If you do,
you will force your hostess to go way back and sit down, and that
wouldn't be polite, you know. By the way, if you'll excuse me I'll do
that very thing now for another reason. I've got two letters in my
hand bag that I forgot all about. I'm going to read them right now.
You girls are making too much chatter. I can't read in your midst."

So saying, Marion retired to a chair just far enough away to lend
semblance of reality to her "go way back and sit down" suggestion, and
settled back comfortably to read the two missives that arrived with
the last evening's mail at the Institute.

"Settled back comfortably"--yes, but only for a short time. Marion
never before in her life received two such letters. Both were
anonymous. The first one that she opened aroused enough curiosity to
"unsettle" her. She thought she knew whom it was from--those ingenious
Boy Scouts of Spring Lake--perhaps it was written by cousin Clifford
himself. It was just like him. He was a natural leader among boys, and
often up to mischief of some sort. Marion was sure he was one of the