"Yes. Dad has some." He made as if to continue, but changed his mind and
fell into silence, leaving her piqued by his reserve and by his apparent
indifference to the things concerning herself. She did not know that he
was eagerly hoping that she would supply this information.

At length he ventured, "Must you go away to-day?"

"I don't suppose there's any 'must' about it."

"Why not stay?"

"Why should I?"

"Oh, it would be jolly," he cried. "You see, we could--explore about
here--and,"--he ended rather lamely,--"it's a lovely country."

"We've seen a lot of it. It IS lovely," she said, her eyes upon his face
as if appraising him. "I should like to know you better," she added,
with sudden and characteristic frankness, "so I think we will stay. But
you will have to be awfully good to me."

"Why, of course," he cried. "That's splendid! Perfectly jolly!"

"Then we had better find father and tell him. Come along," she ordered,
and led the way back to the camp.

The young man followed her, wondering at her, and giving slight heed
to the chatter she flung over her shoulder at him as she strode along
through the bushes.