The broad veranda at the Cedars was lighted with a flood of summer moonbeams, and there was seated on the lounging chairs a gay party of young persons and a few “grown ups.”

Tavia and Dorothy, Ned and Nat, besides Rosabel Glen, the young girl who lived in the pretty cottage next the Cedars, were there, and with Mrs. White were Mrs. Theodore Glen and a visitor from Toledo, a Miss Battin.

In meeting Rosabel Glen the girls from Dalton were both conscious of making the acquaintance of a society girl, one who though still in her teens, knew exactly what to say to be polite, and precisely what to do to show off to the very best possible advantage.  She had called at the Cedars in the afternoon and remained just fifteen minutes, which time Mrs. White informed the girls after her departure was the social limit for a first call.

“But we were talking of something that could not possibly be finished in that time,” Dorothy had complained.

“All the better chance for Rosabel to show off her manners,” said Mrs. White with a laugh, for she had never agreed that young girls should enter society on stilts.

But the evening was different, informal and almost jolly. (The “almost” belonged to Miss Rosabel while the “jolly” was looked after by Ned and Nat, Dorothy and Tavia feeling like an appreciative audience.) All sorts of topics were introduced by the unhappy boys, who never had a good time when the Glens were present, but all resulted in the same failure to make a general conversation of firmer consistency than monosyllables.

“But you must come out to camp,” said Nat in desperation.  “We have the jolliest quarters, on a high knoll, just off the lake front and not too far from the hotel—­a hotel is not bad to have around when a good blow takes the roof off your head at midnight.”

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Rosabel, “you do not mean to say that your tents blow away in the night?”

“Not a bit particular as to time—­night or day,” went on the young man, “so long as they get away.  Last time Ned clung to the ropes and the campers missed something for it was awfully dark.”

“And you really were carried up by the force of the wind?” gasped the polite girl.

“And let down by it,” admitted Ned, “I have a souvenir yet,” rubbing his left arm.

“And girls camp!” gasped the one from the other cottage.

“Heaps of them.  They’re the best neighbors we’ve got.  There’s Camp Deb (all debutants you know), and I tell you their social guardians know how to fix them up for the season.  They make a fellow think of the way fowls are treated before holiday time?”

“Oh,” almost shrieked Rosabel, “Please don’t!”

“But you ought to look into the treatment.  I tell you those girls are beauts.  They get fun, exercise, fresh air and have the last good time they ever expect to have in this world.  Poor dears, they must all be engaged next season, you know.”