let us in for a dinner and dance to-morrow night?" quivered
Greg.

"Look at us---the only outside clothes we have with us!" exploded
Danny Grin.

"We're frights!" chimed in Dave.

"We'll disgrace the girls," blurted Tom, "unless in the meantime
we can find some real tramps with whom to trade clothes."

"We'll feel ashamed enough to drop, when we get among civilized
folks," moaned Harry.

"This is a fine chance to prove or disprove Tom's theory that
a fellow ought to feel most at home in his old working clothes,"
chuckled Dick.

"Was that why you did it---accepted that dinner and dance invitation?"
gasped Dave.

"Partly," laughed Prescott.

"I won't go!" flared Reade, his face showing red under its heavy
coat of tan.

"Oh, yes, you will," Dick insisted, "or else admit that you perjured
yourself when you idealized your working duds this morning."

"And are you really going to-morrow night?" Greg insisted.

"I certainly am," young Prescott affirmed.

That was too much of a poser for the other members of Dick & Co.
Nothing more was said on the subject, though the five boys did
considerable thinking.

Toward five o'clock they came in sight of Ashbury. A few minutes
later they had reached a point where the highway turned into one
of the streets of the town.

Here a uniformed bell-boy from the Ashbury Terraces Hotel approached
them.

"Is Mr. Prescott in this party?" he inquired.

"That's my name," Dick answered.

"Then I am requested by Dr. Bentley to guide you to a camping place
inside the Terraces' grounds," replied the bell-boy. "Dr. Bentley
has arranged it with the manager."

This was a surprise, indeed, but Dick & Co. followed their guide,
who turned in through a gate at some distance from the handsome
summer hotel. Their guide led them to a grove on a broad terrace,
from which the high school lads had an excellent view of one of
the porches of the hotel.

"Look at the smartly dressed people over there!" groaned Greg,
as soon as the bell-boy had left them. "Look at those girls,
in their gowns of white lace! Look at the fellows over there,
in flannels and white duck! Look at-----"

"Shut up!" commanded Tom hoarsely. "Don't rub it in."

"Dick," suggested Darry, with some bitterness, "we'll feel like
princes in our flannel shirts and khaki leggings, won't we?"

"I've an idea," offered Danny Grin. "By way of dressing up we
can leave off our khaki leggings and give our trousers an extra