side and gave herself
up to plans. She was tired of Chautauqua; of that she was certain. It
stirred her up, and the process was uncomfortable. Her former composed
life suited her taste better. She must get away. There was no earthly
reason why she should not go at once to Saratoga. A host of friends were
already there, and certain other friends would be only too glad to
follow as soon as ever they heard of her advent in that region. Before
she left that rustic settee under the trees she had the programme all
arranged.

"We will get through to-morrow as we best can," she said, sighing over
the thought that to-morrow being the Sabbath would perforce be spent
there, "and then on Monday morning Flossy and I will just run away to
Saratoga and leave those two absurd girls to finish their absurd scheme
in the best way they can."

And having disposed of Flossy as though she were a bit of fashionable
merchandise without any volition of her own, Ruth felt more composed and
went at once to dinner.

There came an astonishing interference to this planning, from no other
than Flossy herself. To the utter amazement of each of the girls, she
quietly refused to be taken to Saratoga; nor did she offer any other
excuse for this astonishing piece of self-assertion than that she was
having a good time and meant to finish it. And to this she adhered with
a pertinacity that was very bewildering, because it was so very new.
Marion laughed over her writing, to which she had returned the moment
dinner was concluded.

"That is right, Flossy," she said, "I'm glad to see Chautauqua is having
an effect of some sort on one of us. You are growing strong-minded; mind
isn't a bad thing to have; keep to yours. Ruth, I am astonished at
_you_; I shall have to confess that you are disappointing me, my child.
Now, I rather expected this dear little bit of lace and velvet to give
up, conquered, in less than a week, but I said to myself, 'Ruth Erskine
has pluck enough to carry her through a _month_ of camp-life,' and here
you are quenched at the end of four days."

"It isn't the camp-life," Ruth said, irritably. "I am not so much a baby
as to care about those things to such a degree that I can't endure them,
though everything is disagreeable enough; but that isn't the point at
all."

Marion turned and looked at her curiously.

"What on earth is the point then? What has happened to so disgust you
with Chautauqua?"

"The point is, that I am tired of i