“Oh!  Uncle Dick did go to the bank here,” murmured Betty, nestling back into the cushions and robes.  “I wonder if he is going to stop off at Mountain Camp on his way back to Canada.  Oh!” and she sighed more deeply, “if we could only go up there with him——­”

The car stopped before the gray stone bank building.  Uncle Dick seemed to have been on the watch for them, he came out so promptly.  Although his hair was graying, especially about the temples, Mr. Richard Gordon was by no means an old looking man.  He lived much out of doors and spent such physical energy only as his out-of-door life yielded, instead of living on his reserve strength as so many office-confined men do.  Betty had learned all about that in physics.  She was thoroughly an out-of-door girl herself!

“Oh, Uncle Dick!” she cried when he stepped into the car, “are you really and truly getting ready to go north again?”

“Must, my dear.  Have still some work to do in spite of the ice and snow in Canada.  And, as I told you, I mean to stop and see Jonathan Canary.”

“That is what I mean, Uncle Dick,” she cried.  “Will you go to that lovely Mountain Camp all alo-o-one?”

“Mercy me, child, you never saw it—­and in winter!  You do not know whether it is lovely or not.”

“It must be,” said Betty warmly, “You have explained it all so beautifully to us.  The lovely lake surrounded by hills, and the long toboggan slide, and the skating, and fishing for pickerel through the ice, and—­Oh, dear me! if we can’t go——­”

“If who can’t go?” demanded her uncle in considerable amazement.

“Why, me.  And Bob.  And Bobby Littell and Louise, and the Tucker twins, and all the rest.  We were talking about it last night.  It—­would—­be—­won—­der—­ful!”

“Well, of all the—­Why, Betty!” exclaimed Mr. Gordon, “you know you must go right back to school.”

“Yes, I know,” sighed Betty.  “It is like the fruits of Tantalus, isn’t it?  We read about him in Greek mythology—­poor fellow!  He stood up to his chin in water and over his head hung the loveliest fruits.  But when he stooped to get a drink the water receded, and when he stood on tiptoe to reach the fruit, they receded too.  It was dreadful!  And Mountain Camp, where your friend Mr. Canary lives, is just like that.  Uncle Dick.  For us it is the fruits of Tantalus.”

Uncle Dick stared at her for a moment, then he burst out laughing.  But Betty Gordon remained perfectly serious until they arrived at Fairfields.

CHAPTER III

OFF FOR A GALLOP

The crowd at the Littell lunch table (and it was literally a “crowd” although the Guerin girls and some of the other over Christmas visitors had already gone home) hailed Betty’s arrival vociferously.

“How do you stand it?” asked Uncle Dick, smiling at Mrs. Littell who presided at one end of the table.  “I should think they would drive you distracted.”