ielding. I can see that we are going to have perfectly scrumptious
times before this picture you are going to make is finished."

"I hope we'll fool Bilby--leave him behind," sighed Ruth.

"The worst of it is, we must leave Tommy-boy behind," said Tom's twin.
"Won't he be sore when he hears about it!"

CHAPTER VIII

AT CHIPPEWA BAY

Helen pronounced that exodus from the Red Mill "some hustle;" and really
it was but a brief time that Ruth allowed for packing, dressing, and
getting to Cheslow for the eight-forty-five train, bound north. This was
a through train with sleeping cars, and stopped at Cheslow only on
special occasions. Ruth determined that this was one of those occasions.

She hustled Ben, the hired man, off to town ahead, and by the good
offices of Mercy Curtis a compartment and berth were obtained on that
especial train. Mercy kept the wires hot arranging this for her friend.

Meanwhile, Helen rushed home in her car, packed her trunk and bag, had
them loaded into the front of the car, and drove up the road again to the
Red Mill where she picked up the two Indians and Ruth. Uncle Jabez and
Aunt Alvirah were sorry enough to see Ruth go; but this trip promised not
to be a long one, for the picture should be made in five or six weeks.

The Cameron's chauffeur had been instructed by Helen to "burn up the
road," for there was none too much time before the train was due, and he
did as he was ordered. Indeed, there were ten minutes to spare when they
reached the station platform, and the girls spent that time chatting with
Mercy Curtis leaning out of her window of the telegraph office.

"So, you are off on your travels again," said the lame girl. "I wish I
was a butterfly of fashion, too."

"'Butterfly,'!" scoffed Helen. "Ruth, at least, is no butterfly. She
might be called a busy bee with more truth."

"Ah-ha, Miss Helen!" returned Mercy, shaking her finger, "you are the
improvident grasshopper--no less."

Helen giggled. "Tom says that that old proverb, 'Go to the ant, thou
sluggard;' should read: 'Go to the ant and slug her.' He does not love
work any more than I do."

Again Ruth's expression of countenance was one of disapproval, but she
made no comment on Tom. The train thundered toward the station, slowing
down as though resenting being stopped in its swift career for even a few
moments.

Mr. Curtis, the station master, made a point himself of seeing that the
baggage of the party was put