“There goes the dinner horn now,” announced the guardian of the Meadow-Brook Girls.  “Girls, you are not presentable.  Hurry and get ready for dinner.  We mustn’t be late to-day, of all days.”

It was really marvelous that the girls were able to work such a transformation in themselves in so short a time.  In the few moments that had been left to them they had rearranged their hair, brushed the dirt of the plowed field from their clothing and washed their faces and hands.  It was really a jolly dinner, too, for the good-natured guest kept them all laughing with his humorous stories and odd remarks.  He was so much like his daughter Jane that they had no need to be reminded of the relationship.

“This has been a day of excitement, hasn’t it?” remarked one of the guardians to Miss Elting.  “Buried treasure, automobile wrecks, visitors, mysterious strangers.  Gracious me! what are the Camp Girls coming to?”

“I don’t know.  Did Mr. McCarthy say what the surprise is that he has in store for the girls?  I thought perhaps he might have said something about it during our absence on that automobile ride.”

“Not that I heard.  He undoubtedly told Mrs. Livingston.  There, she is speaking now,” added the guardian.

Mrs. Livingston had risen and rapped on the table with a knife for attention.

“Our guest and good friend, Mr. McCarthy, wishes to make an announcement,” she said, then sat down.

Jane’s father got up, his face very red, his forehead glistening with beads of perspiration.

“Your guest and good friend most emphatically does not wish to make an announcement,” declared the visitor.  “But it is up to him to do so because he wishes to please that fine woman, your Chief Guardian—­is that what you call yourself, Mrs. Livingston?  I get all mixed up with various names and titles.  It’s as bad as attending a reception of the royal family, judging from what I’ve heard.”

Mrs. Livingston nodded, smiling good-naturedly.

“Well, girls, you know I’ve got to do something to furnish that mad-cap daughter of mine with a variety of means of ending her life and those of her friends.  She has exhausted everything thus far.  However, this is a perfectly safe proposition, this one that I have planned for you and her, and I don’t think any of you can get into serious difficulty through it.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Dad!  Tommy will suffocate if you don’t tell us now.  She has been holding her breath ever since you began speaking,” cried Jane.

A ripple of laughter ran along both sides of the table, but quickly subsided when Mr. McCarthy again began speaking.

“Very good, if you must know.  But—­I say, Mrs. Livingston, I think we won’t tell them until to-morrow.  As I think it over, I guess I won’t tell them after all.  They’ll know all about it when it gets here.  That’s all.”  Mr. McCarthy sat down, wiping his forehead and looking vastly relieved.