scuit and some other little
things," she thought, "that I can keep in my tent and eat when I please.
That will suit me much better than the ordinary meals." Then, without
awakening Mrs. Perkenpine, she strolled away, directing her steps towards
Camp Roy.

When Margery had gone to her room, and had changed her wet clothes, she
was thoroughly miserable. For some time she sat on the side of her little
cot, unwilling to go out, on account of a nervous fear that she might meet
Mr. Raybold. Of course, if he should again speak to her as he had done,
she would immediately appeal to Mr. Archibald, but she did not want to do
this, for she had a very strong desire not to make any trouble or
divisions in the camp; so she lay down to think over the matter, and in
less than two minutes she was asleep. Mrs. Archibald had come to call her
to breakfast, but upon being told that she had been up ever so long, and
had had her breakfast, she left the girl to her nap.

"I shall sleep here," thought Margery, "until they have all gone to do
whatever it is they want to do, and then perhaps I may have a little
peace."

When she awoke it was nearly eleven o'clock, and she went immediately to
her little side window, from which she could see the lake and a good deal
of the camp-ground. The first thing which met her reconnoitering gaze was
a small boat some distance out on the lake. Its oars were revolving
slowly, something like a pair of wheels with one paddle each, and it was
occupied by one person. This person was Arthur Raybold, who had found the
bishop calking the boat, and as soon as this work was finished, had
moodily declared that he would take a row in her. He had not yet had a
chance to row a boat which was in a decent condition. He wanted to be
alone with his aspirations. He thought it would be scarcely wise to
attempt to speak to Margery again that morning; he would give her time for
her anger to cool. She was only a woman, and he knew women!

"It's that Raybold," said Margery. "He knows no more about rowing than a
cat, and he's floating sideways down the lake. Good! Now I can go out and
hope to be let alone. I don't know when he will ever get that boat back
again. Perhaps never."

She was not a wicked girl, and she did not desire that the awkward rower
might never get back; but still she did not have that dread of an accident
which might have come over her had the occupant of the boat been a brother
or any one she cared very much a