e just stopped in the road," she exclaimed, "and the
man in it asked me who lived in the tent over here."

"I never supposed any one could see that tent from the road." Kit's tone
held a distinct note of disappointment. "What did he want to sell us,
Dorrie, lightning rods or sewing machines?"

"Oh, Kit, don't," pleaded Doris. "He's really in earnest, and he's coming
over here right now. I told him all about everything, and he thinks he
might want to rent a tent."

Kit's countenance cleared like magic. She forgot the refractory strip of
canvas, and descended immediately from the camp stool.

"Lead me, sister darling, to this first paying guest, who cannot resist
the woodland lure. Helen, don't you dare say anything to spoil the
inviting picture which I shall give him. I don't see what more he could
want." She hesitated a moment, surveying the river, almost directly below
the sloping rock. "Why, he could almost sit up in bed in the morning and
haul in his fish-lines from yon winding stream with a fine catch for
breakfast on it."

"Oh, hurry, Kit, and don't stop to spout," Doris begged. "He is really
awfully nice, and he's in earnest, I know he is."

But Kit went with dignity across the fields to the road where the
automobile stood with its lone occupant. He must have been over forty
years of age, but with his closely curled dark hair and alert smile he
appeared much younger. He wore no hat, and was heavily tanned. It seemed
to Kit at first glance as though she had never seen eyes so full of keen
curiosity and genial friendliness.

"How do you do?" he called as soon as she came within hailing distance.
"Are you the young lady who has the renting of these tents which I see
every once in a while?"

Kit admitted that she was. He nodded his head approvingly and smiled, a
broad pleasant smile which seemed to include the entire landscape.

"I like it here," he announced with emphasis. "It is sequestered and
silent. I have not met a single team or car on the road for miles."

"Oh, that happens often," said Kit, eagerly. "There are days when nobody
passes at all except the mail carrier."

"It suits me," he exclaimed, buoyantly. "I must have quiet and perfect
relaxation. I will rent one of your tents and occupy it at once. I have
been touring this part of the country looking for a spot which appealed to
me."

"We have one on the hill yonder," Kit suggested. He seemed rather
peculiar, and perhaps it would be just as we