“Foolish,” replied the other.  “Nat said he fancied that chap would make trouble.”

The thought that Cologne might have whispered to Dorothy something about Tavia getting a letter from this man just flashed across her mind.  Tavia was always getting into some foolish scrape, and kept Dorothy busy getting her out, and it just occurred to Dorothy that it might not be a bad idea to let Tavia try getting herself out, should she repeat her usual indiscretions of risking too much for the sake of some trifling whim.

“Bangor!  Bangor!” called the porter, and our friends gathered themselves up to make the change for Lake Monadic.

“I must get a shoe shine,” said Tavia, as they stepped on the platform of the big depot.  “Just wait here.  I won’t be three minutes.”

“We only have five,” Dorothy told her, “and if you are late—­I must go on.  Cologne is going to meet us away out from camp.”

“Oh I’ll be back,” promised Tavia, and then she was lost in the throng.

CHAPTER VII

Camp C.C.

“There is not another train out this evening,” Cologne was telling Dorothy.  “Wasn’t it perfectly dreadful for her to leave you!”

“I expected something like that to happen from the start,” Dorothy replied.  “Tavia has a faculty for missing trains.  I wonder what she will do?”

“There is just a chance that she may be able to make the way train, and switch off at the Junction, then, if she is lucky, she may flag the shore train and get to this spot about midnight.  But what would she do then?  Better stay out in civilization until daylight.”

“I feel dreadfully, Rose-Mary, that she should give you so much trouble.  I sometimes think Tavia ought to be——­”

“Spanked,” finished the girl, with a smile.  “Well, with all her faults we love her still,” and she tightened her hands on the horse reins.  “Let us hope she will be more fortunate than we anticipate.”

“Isn’t this lovely!” exclaimed Dorothy, as they started over the hill in the depot wagon.  “These are real Maine woods, aren’t they?”

“Not the big-game kind.  Those are farther out.  But wait until you see our camp.  Then you may say lovely!”

“And your camping suit,” went on Dorothy.  “Surely I may say lovely to that.  It is perfectly splendid, and your cap is so becoming!”

“Think so?  Yes, I like the cap, and it’s handy.  I’ve got one for you and one for Tavia—­if she ever gets here to claim it,” and Cologne handed the cap to Dorothy for close inspection.  It was a jaunty blue affair with the letters “C.C.” in gilt.  These, Cologne explained, might stand for anything, but they mostly stood for Camp Cologne, or Camp Cozy, or Camp Clamor, although some of the members wanted it Camp Capital, Cologne said.

“We will end up by making it ‘See See,’” declared Dorothy, “for it does seem one or other of us is constantly calling upon some one else to see something—­there is lots to see.”