Tish put it in her terse manner most intelligently.  “We intend to prove,” she stated to Mrs. Ostermaier, the minister’s wife, who came to call and found us all sitting on the floor trying to get used to it, for of course there would be no chairs, “we shall prove that the trappings of civilization are a delusion and a snare.  We shall bring back ’Mens sana in corpore sano’.”

The minister’s wife thought this was a disease, for she said, “I hope not, I’m sure,” very hastily.

“We shall make our own fire and our own shelter,” said Tish from the floor.  “We shall wear one garment, loose enough to allow entire freedom of movement.  We shall bathe in Nature’s pools and come out cleansed.  On the Sabbath we shall attend divine service under the Gothic arches of the trees, read sermons in stones, and instead of that whining tenor in the choir we shall listen to the birds singing praise, overhead.”

Mrs. Ostermaier looked rather bewildered.  “I’m sure I hope so,” she said vaguely.  “I don’t like camping myself.  There are so many bugs.”

As Tish said, some ideas are so large that the average person cannot see them at all.

We had fixed on Maine.  It seemed to combine all the necessary qualities:  woods and lakes, rabbits, game and fish, and—­solitude.  Besides, Aggie’s hay fever is better the farther north she gets.  On the day we were leaving, Mr. Ostermaier came to see us.

“I—­I really must protest, ladies,” he said.  “That sort of thing may be all right for savages, but—­”

“Are we not as intelligent as savages?” Tish demanded.

“Primitive people are inured to hardships, and besides, they have methods of their own.  They can make fire—­” “So can I,” retorted Tish.  “Any fool can make a fire with a rubbing-stick.  It’s been done in thirty-one seconds.”

“If you would only take some matches,” he wailed, “and a good revolver, Miss Letitia.  And—­you must pardon this, but I have your well-being at heart—­if I could persuade you to take along some—­er—­flannels and warm clothing!”

“Clothing,” said Tish loftily, “is a matter of habit, Mr. Ostermaier.”

I think he got the idea from this that we intended to discard clothing altogether, for he went away almost immediately, looking rather upset, and he preached on the following Sunday from “Consider the lilies of the field....  Even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”

We left on Monday evening, and by Tuesday at noon we were at our destination, as far as the railroad was concerned.  Tish had a map with the lake we’d picked out, and we had figured that we’d drive out to within ten miles or so of it and then send the driver back.  The lake was in an uninhabited neighborhood, with the nearest town twenty-five miles away.  We had one suitcase containing our blankets, sandals, short dresses, soap, hairpins, salt-box, knives, scissors, and a compass, and the leather thongs for rabbit snares that we had had cut at a harness shop.  In the other suitcase was the tepee.