Dorothy and Cologne were just appearing above the hill, Dorothy’s yellow head bobbing up like some animated flower.

“Oh, you dreadful girl!” called Cologne.  “We thought the gypsies had taken you.”

“No such luck,” answered Tavia, as the two came up to the apple tree.  “But I did find some splendid apples.  Help yourselves.  I must sit down for a minute.  I’ve been up the tree—­no, up a tree,” she finished with a laugh that neither of her companions understood.

“Harvests!” cried Cologne in delight.  “I never knew they were here.”

“Neither did I until I found them,” replied Tavia foolishly.

“The climb gave you lovely red cheeks; Tavia,” said Dorothy.  “You ought to take climbing in the next school course.”

“No sarcasm now, please, Doro.  I don’t feel a bit funny.”

“But you look it,” declared Dorothy, keeping up her teasing manner.  “You always look funny when your cheeks get so red—­”

“Danger of ignition, I suppose,” and Tavia’s voice was anything but pleasant.  “Oh, there go the Lamberts!” as an auto swished around the road.  “I must run away and see them some day—­just before we go home, when Cologne won’t have time, or heart, to scold.”

“You wouldn’t!” spoke Cologne.  “Mother particularly warned me that we were not to take up with those theatrical folks, and mother is the boss.”

“Oh, very well, if you really feel that way about it,” and Tavia shrugged her shoulders.

Dorothy was shaking a limb of the apple tree.  “What ghost have you seen Tavia?” she asked.  “Someone has stolen away all your good nature.”

“He’s welcome,” she replied.  “Stagnant good nature doesn’t keep well, and I have been keeping mine bottled up ever since you shot that window brush.  The shock to my system—­” and she imitated the manner of one affected with nerves.

“Yes, it was dreadful on all of us,” agreed Dorothy, from whom the change in Tavia’s manner could not be hidden.  “But you must forget it, and think of the good time we are going to have to-morrow.  Think of it!  Going out in the real mountains, with real boys for guides!  Of course you will have your pick of the boys, Cologne and I must be satisfied with what remains.”

Cologne had scarcely spoken since Tavia mentioned the Lamberts, and Dorothy was doing her best to restore good nature and peace to both of her companions.  Yet she was greatly annoyed at Tavia’s rudeness.  Why should she persist in ignoring common courtesy and thus keeping up that Lambert question?

“We must hurry back to the camp with our berries,” Cologne at last ventured, “or mother will think some snake has eaten us up.”

“And I particularly want to try my hand at berry tarts,” declared Dorothy.  “I was, at one time, considered quite a ‘tarter.’”

Tavia gathered up some apples, and the others took their berry baskets.  They walked slowly over the hill back to the camp.  Jack was waiting for them.