“Did I scare you, girls?” asked a deep, strong voice, and the apparition looked gravely from one to the other.  It was a dark-skinned face, bronzed by wind and weather to a coppery, Indian-like tinge, and the hair which framed it was coarse and black.  Only the head and shoulders of the apparition were visible beside the arms, the rest being concealed in the depths underneath the tent, but the breadth of those shoulders indicated clearly what might be expected in the way of a body.  After a moment of roving back and forth between the two girls, the dark eyes under the heavy eyebrows fastened themselves upon Katherine with a mournful intensity of gaze that held her spellbound, speechless.  After a full moment’s scrutiny the dark eyes dropped, and the apparition, using her arms as levers, raised herself to the level of the floor and stood up.  She was taller even than they had expected from the breadth of her shoulders; in fact, she seemed taller than the tent itself.  Katherine, who up until that moment had considered herself tall, felt like a pigmy beside her, or, as she expressed it, “like Carver Hill suddenly set down beside one of the Alps.”  Never had she seen such a monumental young woman; such suggestion of strength and vigor contained in a feminine frame.

Oh-Pshaw looked timidly at the human Colossus standing in the middle of the tent, and inquired meekly, “Are you Miss Armstrong?  Are you our Councilor?”

“I am,” replied the newcomer gravely, replacing the board in the floor with a nonchalance which conveyed the impression that coming up through floors was her usual manner of entering places.

“Why did you come in that way?” burst out Katherine, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

“Oh, I just happened to be under the tent,” replied Miss Armstrong, speaking in a drawling voice with a marked English accent, “looking for the broom, when I spied that loose board and thought I’d come in that way.  It was less trouble than coming out and going around to the steps.”

“Less trouble,” echoed Katherine.  “I should think it would have been more trouble raising that heavy board with my suitcase standing on it.”

“Was your suitcase on it?” inquired Miss Armstrong casually.  “I didn’t notice.”

“Didn’t notice!” repeated Katherine in astonishment.  “It weighs thirty pounds.”

“I weigh two hundred and thirty,” returned Miss Armstrong conversationally.

“You do!” exclaimed Katherine in amazement.  “You certainly don’t look it.”  Indeed, it seemed incredible that Miss Armstrong, tall as she was, could possibly weigh so much, for she looked lean and gaunt as a wolf hound.

“You must be awfully strong, to have raised that board,” Katherine continued, squinting at the muscular brown arms, which seemed solid as iron.

For answer Miss Armstrong took a step forward, picked Katherine up as if she had been a feather, threw her over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, held her there for a moment head downward, and then swung her up and set her lightly on the hanging shelf, while Oh-Pshaw looked on round-eyed and open-mouthed with astonishment.