“Yeth.  It ith the greatetht day I ever thaw and I’m going to yell thome more after I have my breakfatht,” declared Tommy with an emphasis that left no doubt in their minds as to her intentions.

“No, my dear young woman, this is Sunday,” answered the previous speaker.  “You would do well not to forget it, unless you wish for a pleasant little interview with Mrs. Livingston.”

“There!  What did I tell you, Tommy?” exclaimed Harriet.

“I don’t care.  It ith grand and I’ve got to make a noithe.  Why don’t they thtop the birdth from making a noithe on Thunday, too?” retorted Grace as the two girls walked slowly toward the cook tent with the eyes of the camp upon them.

“Yes, she is a perfect fright,” suddenly declared a voice that Harriet recognized as belonging to Patricia Scott.  “I should not think Mrs. Livingston would permit her to parade about in that gown.”

Harriet’s face flushed, but she did not even turn her head.  Tommy fortunately had not caught the words, for which Harriet was thankful.  She knew that Tommy would have resented the remark and made a scene there and then.  The two girls entered the cook tent with some forty other girls following on slowly behind them.

CHAPTER VIII

A DAY WITH AN EXCITING FINISH

The Camp Girls stood in groups waiting for introductions to the Meadow-Brook Girls which they knew were to come.  Mrs. Livingston performed these introductions.  As she did so, she explained the reason for the disheveled appearance of the Meadow-Brook Girls, calling attention to the pluck of Harriet Burrell in trying to stop the mad dash of the frightened horse, for which, Mrs. Livingston said, an honor mark already had been placed opposite her name.  It was the true Camp Girl spirit, said the Chief Guardian and they were proud to welcome her to their ranks.

The Camp Girls had been comparatively cordial to the newcomers since their arrival.  Now that they had heard of Harriet’s pluck they were especially so.  They pressed forward with greetings so warm and friendly that the Meadow-Brook Girls knew them to be sincere, and this made the four young women feel at home on the instant.  Harriet’s face was still flushed from Mrs. Livingston’s praise and her eyelids were drooping modestly.  Tommy, however, was in her element.  She talked incessantly, and even had to be reminded that Mrs. Livingston was about to say grace.  So absorbed did she become in her own chatter that she did not observe that the whole table was awaiting the conclusion of her talk for the more solemn duty of asking grace.