“Have another candy,” invited Grace, hospitably extending the now nearly depleted box.

“Sure—­thanks!” exclaimed the boy, but he backed quickly away from her.  Her joke had fallen on a suspicious mind, evidently.

The girls trudged on, rather silent now, for somehow the edge of their enjoyment seemed to have been taken off.  But still they were not discouraged.  They were true outdoor girls, and they knew, even if worse came to worst, and darkness found them far from their destination, and Betty’s aunt’s house, that no real harm could come to them.

Successfully they found the various points of identification mentioned by the freckled boy, and at last they located a sign-post that read: 

FIVE MILES TO ROCKFORD

“Five miles!” exclaimed Grace, with a tragic air.  “We can never do it!”

“We must!” declared Betty, firmly.  “Of course we can do it.  Why, even with going out of our way as we did, we won’t have covered more than eighteen miles to-day.  And we set twenty as an average.”

“But this is the first day,” said Mollie.

“We can—­we must get to Rockford to-night,” insisted Betty.

Rather hopelessly they tramped on.  The sun seemed to sink with surprising rapidity after getting to a certain point in the western sky.

“It’s dropping faster and faster all the while!” cried Amy, as they watched it from a crest of the road.

“Never mind—­June evenings are the longest of the year,” consoled Betty.

They hurried on.  The sun sank to its nightly rest amid a bed of golden, green, purple, pink and olive clouds, and there followed a glorious maze of colors that reached high up toward zenith.

“Girls, we simply must stop and admire this—­if it’s only for a minute!” exclaimed Grace.  “Isn’t that wonderful!” and she pointed a slender hand, beautified by exquisitely kept nails, toward the gorgeous sky picture.

“Every minute counts!” remarked practical Betty.  Yet she knew better than to worry her friends.

The glow faded, and again the girls advanced.  From the fields came the lowing of the cows, as they waited impatiently for the bars of the pastures to be let down.  A herd of sheep was driven along the road, raising a cloud of dust.  From farm houses came the barking of dogs and the not unmusical notes of conch or tin horns, summoning the “men folks” to the evening meal.

“Girls, we’re never going to make it in time!” exclaimed Grace as the sky darkened.  “We must see if we can’t stop at one of these houses over night,” and she pointed to a little hamlet they were approaching.

“Grace!” exclaimed Betty.  “Aunt Sallie would be worried to death if we didn’t come, after she expected us.”

“Then we must send her word.  I can’t go another step.”

They all paused irresolutely.  They were in front of a big white house—­a typical country home.  Betty glanced toward it.