“It is lovely to camp,” ventured Dorothy.  “We have had rather an interrupted season, but I hope now we shall make up for it.”

“If money will help you, it shall be yours,” declared the anxious woman, “for my daughter has more than she can ever use.”

Dorothy looked at her in silence.  Then it was well indeed to have been lost and found, for the sake of this dear girl!

“This is our camp,” said Dorothy, as they reached it.

Mrs. Harriwell fairly ran up those barn steps.

But who would try to tell what happened when she found her daughter?

CHAPTER XXIX

THE ROUND-UP—­CONCLUSION

“It’s up to Tavia!”

“I have told you every word I am going to tell,” she declared.

“Oh, no you haven’t,” objected Nat.  “I want to know about that stagey fellow.  I don’t quite fancy his interference.”

“He didn’t interfere,” declared Tavia, “and I am not going over that thing again.”

“Oh, no, he didn’t interfere,” repeated Ned.  “He merely had it all his own way.  Now, if I had long hair——­”

“Ned,” interrupted Dorothy, “please don’t.  You must remember that the poor fellow was not responsible.”

“Lucky dog,” murmured Ned, giving Cologne one of his favorite looks (Ned had a fancy for Cologne).

“Then I think that Dorothy ought to tell her part,” insisted Jack.  “We have heard rumors of terrible things!”

“Mere rumors,” said Dorothy with a laugh, “Why shouldn’t I be entitled to my own experience?  Haven’t I paid it all back to you?”

“Nope.  Not for the shoe that caught in the trap,” said Ned facetiously.

“Nor for visiting absolute strangers like those Hobbses,” added Cologne, “and they are completely out of our set.”

“Well, I don’t mind,” agreed Jack.  “We have found Molly.”

“Jackie, you do know a good thing when you see it,” complimented Ned.

Molly sat out on the low camp stool very close to Jack, and it was plain there was no objection on the part of either as to this particular closeness.

“Ralph says nothing——­” began Tavia.

“But saws wood,” added Ned, with a wink, for Ralph seemed to have appropriated Dorothy.

Altogether they were a happy set of campers.  It was only ten days since the close of that distressing search, that had taken up so many of their camping days, but there was still left plenty of time for the best of outings, which their keenness after their troubles made the more merry.

Camp Dorothy was the name of the new tent that Mrs. Harriwell had sent up immediately after her daughter’s installation with the campers.  With the express came two maids, one for work, and the other to look after Molly.  Mrs. Harriwell had to be content with stopping at a nearby hotel, but every day she came over to the camp, and really was almost like a young girl herself, so great was her joy in the sudden restoration of her daughter’s health.  It developed that the sick girl’s case had been one of pure melancholia, following a shock of grief, and that her association with Dorothy and her friends was the one thing she most needed.  The second shock, in falling, had restored her reason.