“Yeth, tho am I,” lisped little Grace Thompson.

“You have arranged for us at the hotel for to-night, haven’t you?” demanded Jane McCarthy.  “Father said you would look after these matters for me.”

“It’s all right, Miss.  We’ll go to the postoffice now.  I’ll look after your baggage when we get you settled for the night.  We won’t take it away from the station till we talk over what you want to do.  Are you ready?”

They walked down the street, laughing and chatting, a happy lot of girls, followed by a group of curious villagers, who even accompanied them into the post-office.  It was unusual to see so many pretty girls in Compton, for summer visitors seldom came to the place.  Furthermore, these were different from any visitors ever seen there, so far as dress was concerned.  While waiting for the mail to be distributed, the girls laughed and talked, apparently utterly oblivious of the presence of the staring villagers.  Miss Elting inquired for mail for the party as soon as the wicket was opened.

“Here, Tommy, is a letter for you,” she smiled.  Grace took the letter eagerly.  “And here are letters for Harriet, Hazel, and Margery.  There is one for me, too.  It is from your father, Jane.”

“I have a letter here from Dad.  I—­will you look at that?” Jane stood staring at the window.  For a brief instant she had caught sight of a man wearing a huge pair of goggles.  He was peering through the post-office window at them.  But as she looked, the man disappeared.  “It was our friend with the green goggles again as sure as I’m alive!” she exclaimed.  “He was staring in here for all he was worth, but the minute he saw me looking at him he vanished.”

“I am afraid we are going to have trouble with this mysterious individual,” declared Harriet.  “He seems to have developed a peculiar interest in our affairs that is far from flattering.”

“We are not going to be annoyed as we were last year,” said Miss Elting firmly.  “Mr. Grubb, there is something very strange in all this.  If for any reason you know this man or have even the slightest idea of his identity I must ask you to be perfectly frank with me.”

Janus Grubb declared solemnly that he had not the least idea who the man could have been.  Nor had he been able to find any person who had seen the fellow approach them.  Miss Elting and the guide stepped out to the porch, followed by the girls, still chatting over the news from home contained in their letters.

“Now, where do you want to go first?” asked the guide after they had reached the porch.

“We will trust to your judgment,” answered Miss Elting.  “You know best.  We wish to try a little mountain climbing and we wish to see the larger of the White Mountains.  We would like to see everything of interest in the White Mountain country.”

“That’s a pretty big contract,” chuckled Janus; “but I reckon we can show you what you want to see.  For instance, there’s Mt.  Chocorua, Moosilauke, Mt.  Washington, Mt.  Lafayette and as many more as you like, all the real thing and offering all the climbing you will care to do, unless you want to follow the trails that all the visitors take.”