But the evening was different, informal and almost jolly. (The "almost"
belonged to Miss Rosabel while the "jolly" was looked after by Ned and
Nat, Dorothy and Tavia feeling like an appreciative audience.) All sorts
of topics were introduced by the unhappy boys, who never had a good time
when the Glens were present, but all resulted in the same failure to
make a general conversation of firmer consistency than monosyllables.

"But you must come out to camp," said Nat in desperation. "We have the
jolliest quarters, on a high knoll, just off the lake front and not too
far from the hotel--a hotel is not bad to have around when a good blow
takes the roof off your head at midnight."

"Oh, my!" exclaimed Rosabel, "you do not mean to say that your tents
blow away in the night?"

"Not a bit particular as to time--night or day," went on the young man,
"so long as they get away. Last time Ned clung to the ropes and the
campers missed something for it was awfully dark."

"And you really were carried up by the force of the wind?" gasped the
polite girl.

"And let down by it," admitted Ned, "I have a souvenir yet," rubbing his
left arm.

"And girls camp!" gasped the one from the other cottage.

"Heaps of them. They're the best neighbors we've got. There's Camp Deb
(all debutants you know), and I tell you their social guardians know how