“I know where I am now,” she called.

“How far have we to go?” asked Harriet.

“About five miles, they say, but one has to make allowances for distances in the country.  It is difficult to find two persons who will agree on the distance to any certain point.”

“Five mileth, did you say?” questioned Tommy.

“Yes, dear.”

“Thave me!”

“We shall easily make it in two hours.  I don’t think we can go astray.  So long as we keep within sound of the sea we shall be right.  If you are ready, we will move on.”

Once more they set out.  They had gone on less than an hour when Margery began to cry.  Tommy regarded her with disapproving eyes.  Margery declared that she couldn’t walk another step.  Inquiry by Miss Elting developed the fact that Buster had a blister on her right foot.  This meant another delay.  Miss Elting removed the girl’s shoe from that foot and treated the blister.  Half an hour was lost by this delay, but no one except Tommy Thompson complained.  Tommy complained for the sake of saying something.  She teased Margery so unmercifully that Miss Elting was obliged to rebuke her, after which Tommy went off by herself and sat pensively down by the roadside until the order to march was given.

The afternoon was waning when once more they came in sight of the sea.  The setting sun had turned the expanse of ocean into a vast plain of shimmering, quivering gold.  The Meadow-Brook Girls uttered exclamations of delight when they set eyes on the scene.  For a few moments they stood still, gazing and gazing as if it were not possible to get enough of the, to most of them, unusual spectacle.

A full quarter of a mile ahead they observed that the shores a little back were quite heavily wooded, though the trees were small and slender.  This particular spot seemed to have attracted Miss Elting’s attention to the exclusion of all else.  As she looked, a smile overspread her countenance.  The girls did not observe it.

“We are nearly there,” she called.

“Near the camp?” asked Tommy.

“Yes, the camp, you little tantalizer,” chuckled the guardian.  “But you will not know what camp until you reach it.”

“Oh, yeth I thall.  It ith our camp, the Meadow-Brook camp.”

“I hear shouts.  I do believe they are girls’,” cried Crazy Jane.  She glanced inquiringly at Miss Elting, but the latter’s face now gave no hint as to what was in her mind.  “Come on; let’s run, girls.”

With one accord they started forward at a brisk trot.  This brought a wail from the limping Margery.

“Wait for me,” she cried.  “I—­I can’t run.”

To their surprise Tommy halted, waited for Buster, then, linking an arm within hers, assisted Margery to trot along and keep up with her companions.  Miss Elting gave Grace an appreciative nod and smile, which amply repaid the little girl for her kindly act.  They covered the distance to the miniature forest in quick time, impelled by their curiosity, now realizing that they were to meet with the surprise that their guardian had prepared for them.  Harriet had a fairly well defined idea as to what was awaiting them, but even she was to be happily surprised.