“I am glad that it is no worse,” said Mrs. Bentley in a relieved voice.  “At the same time, it was a very silly performance.”

“It was,” nodded the doctor, who turned to the girls to add: 

“My dears, as you succeeded this time in making me your very reluctant accomplice, I am in no position to say very much to you.  But I trust you all realize the situation and its outcome, and that you will never allow yourselves to be made ridiculous again in any such way.”

“I don’t believe we shall,” Laura replied.  “We felt ashamed of ourselves afterwards, but we were silly enough to feel because we had pledged ourselves to forage for fruit and vegetables that the joke must be carried out.”

“Tom Reade,” snapped Susie Sharp, “you are just bursting with laughter that you can hardly hold back.”

“Not I!” Tom denied promptly.  “I am congratulating myself that we boys had sense enough not to take seriously your claim that you had been robbing anyone’s garden.  As it happened, you did that very thing, but you didn’t know it, and you didn’t mean to.”

There was an embarrassed silence.  Then Dick proposed: 

“Let’s have a good-natured laugh all around and forget the whole thing.”

That relieved the awkwardness of the situation.  After that a watermelon was cut and brought to the tables.

“Gridley, ahoy!” called a voice across the dark waters.

“Who’s there?” called Dick.

“Preston High School Canoe Club.  May we visit your camp?”

“Shall I invite them over?” asked Dick, looking at Mrs. Bentley and then at the girls.

Receiving their consent, he called out: 

“Come in, Preston High School!  Welcome!”

A soft splashing of paddles showed where the visitors were coming in to shore.  Dan Dalzell taking the camp lantern, ran to meet them.

A moment later six Preston lads were stepping ashore, one after the other.  Dick, having excused himself at table, came forward also to greet them.

Two of the Preston High School boys were already acquainted with Laura Bentley and some of her friends.  Introductions followed rapidly.

“Drop into the Gridley seats and have some of the watermelon,” Dick pressed the visitors, he and his chums standing in order to do the honors of the occasion.

“It looks as though we had been trying to invite ourselves to a banquet,” laughed Hartwell, “big chief” of the Preston High School “Indians.”  “We didn’t mean to seem as rude as that, Prescott.”

“All I know,” smiled Dick cordially, “is that you are all heartily welcome.  Can we stir up a fire and broil some fish?”

“Don’t think of it, thank you,” begged Hartwell.  “We’ve had our suppers—–­dinners, the hotel folks insist on calling ’em.  It’s jolly enough for us to be allowed to join you and see the watermelon passing around.”

“Chug! chug!  Puff! puff!” sounded the returning launch.  Dick glanced apprehensively at Dr. Bentley and the ladies.  Did the coming of the launch mean that it was about time for the pleasant evening to break up?