For a moment things turned black before Agony’s eyes.  She rose unsteadily to her feet and crossed the balcony to the stairs.  “I must be going, now,” she murmured through dry lips.

“Must you go so soon?” asked Miss Amesbury with a real regret in her voice that cut Agony to the heart.

“Come again, come often,” floated after her as she passed through the door.

Agony sped away from camp and hid herself away in the woods, where she sank down at the foot of a great tree and hid her face in her hands.  The thing she had desired, had longed for above all others, was now about to come to pass—­and she had made it forever an impossibility.  The cup of joy that Fate had decreed she was to taste she had dashed to the ground with her own hands.  For she could not see Edwin Langham, could not let him see her.  As long as he did not see her her secret was safe.  He did not know her name, or Mary’s, so he could not betray her in that way.  Only, if he ever saw her he would know the difference right away, and then would come betrayal and disgrace.  There was only one thing to do.  She must hide away from him; and give up her opportunity of meeting and talking with him.  It was the only way out of the predicament.

When the steamer swung into view around the bend of the river the next afternoon Agony stole away into the thickest part of the woods and proceeded toward a place she had discovered some time before.  It was a deep, extremely narrow ravine, so narrow indeed that it was merely a great crock in the earth, not more than six feet across at its widest.  It was filled with a wild growth of elderberry bushes, which made it an excellent hiding place.  She scrambled down into this pit and crouched under the bushes, completely hidden from view.  Here she sat with her head bowed down on her knees, hearing the whistle of the steamer as it neared the dock, and the welcoming song of the girls as the distinguished passenger alighted.  A little later it seemed to her that she heard voices calling her name.  Yes, it was so, without a doubt.  Tiny Armstrong’s megaphone voice came echoing on the breeze.

“A-go-ny!  A-go-ny!  Oh-h-h-h, A—­go—­ny!”

* * * * *

She clenched her hands in silent misery, and did not raise her head.  Then the sound of a bark arrested her attention, coming from directly overhead, and she sat up in consternation.  Micky, the bull pup belonging to the Camp, had discovered her hiding place and would undoubtedly give her away.

“Go away, Micky!” she commanded in a low tone.  At the sound of her voice Micky barked more loudly than ever, a joyous, welcoming bark.  Having been much petted by Agony, Micky had grown very fond of her, and seeing her walk off into the woods today, he had followed after her, and now gave loud voice to his satisfaction at finding her.

“Micky!  Go away!” commanded Agony a second time, throwing a lump of dirt at him.  Micky looked astonished as the dirt flew past his nose, but refused to retire.