“We must come to camp for our meals, then.  Perhaps that would be better after all.  We don’t wish to run away by ourselves; and besides this, you are now a Torch Bearer and must take a more active part in the affairs of the Camp, even if you are of the Meadow-Brook group,” reminded the guardian.

Harriet nodded thoughtfully.

“How good and kind Mrs. Livingston is!  And think of what she has done for me.  It is too good to be true.”

“What is too good to be true?” questioned the Chief Guardian herself.

“Everything—­all that you have done for me.”

“We are still in your debt.  Now you had better be getting along.  Will you need a light?”

“No, thank you.  Harriet ith an owl.  She can thee in the dark jutht ath well ath in the light,” answered Tommy, speaking for Harriet.

The Meadow-Brook party, after calling their good nights, started toward the cabin, Harriet with the thought strong in her mind that only one rank lay between her and the highest gift in the power of the organization to bestow.  She determined that one day she would be a Guardian of the Fire, but she dared not even dream of ever rising to the high office of Chief Guardian.  Harriet’s life would be too full of other things, she felt.

They trooped, laughing and chatting, along the beach, and, reaching the Lonesome Bar, followed it out.  The bar was a narrow, sandy strip that extended nearly a quarter of a mile out into the bay.  About half way out the cabin had been built and for some time occupied by a Portsmouth man, who occasionally ran down there for a week-end fishing trip.  The cabin, as a camping place, possessed the double advantage of being out of the mosquito zone and of being swept by ocean breezes almost continuously.  A fresh breeze was now blowing in from the sea, and the white-crested rollers could be seen slipping past them on either side.  It was almost as though they were walking down an ocean lane without even wetting their boots.  The water was shallow on either side, so that even though they stepped off they were in no danger of going into deep water.

“We have forgotten all about a lamp!” exclaimed Harriet as they neared the cabin.

“That has been attended to,” replied Miss Elting.

“You know we have been thleeping, Harriet,” reminded Tommy—­“thleeping our young headth off.  Ithn’t it nithe to be able to thleep while other folkth do your work for you?”

They had hurried on and Tommy was obliged to run to catch up with them.  Miss Elting was lighting a swinging lamp when they entered the cottage, which consisted of one room, above which was an attic, but with no entrance so far as they were able to observe.  Six rolls of blankets lay on the floor against a side wall ready to be opened and spread when the girls should be ready for bed.  One solitary window commanded a view of the sea.  Tommy surveyed the place with a squint and a scowl.  There was not another article in the place besides the blankets.