“To ’The Pines’?” came the question in Patricia’s voice.

“Yes,” replied Cora.  “Charlie Collier wants me to go with him.  He says he will come for me in his car.  They are going to have a perfectly lovely dance at ‘The Pines.’”

“Have you spoken to Mrs. Livingston?”

“She wouldn’t let me go.  Of what use would it be to speak to her?  I’m so angry I could howl.”

“What a simpleton you are, Cora Kidder,” chided Patricia.  “If I had an invitation to that dance and wanted to go—­really were crazy to go—­I’d go!”

“How?”

“Cut for it.”

“You mean go without permission?”

“Of course.  I’d do it just to defy her.”

A brief period of silence followed.  Then Cora spoke.

“If I thought I could do it and get back without discovery, I would,” she said slowly.

“Of course you can get back.  Tell Charlie Collier at what hour you must return and see that he starts back to camp in good season with you.  Is he coming alone?”

“Oh, mercy no.  His sister will come with him and return with us.”

“When is the party!”

“The day after to-morrow night.”

“How are you to let him know that you will go?”

“He is going to call here with his sister to-morrow.”

“Good!  Now don’t be afraid.  Tell him you’ll go.”

“I believe I will,” replied Cora.  By the way, Patricia, the soap trick worked all right, didn’t it!”

“It certainly did,” was the answer, and Patricia broke into a merry laugh, in which Cora did not appear to join so heartily.

Harriet heard no more.  The two girls had gotten up and moved out of her hearing.  But she was shocked beyond expression.  The soap in the consomme was no longer a mystery.  She had never believed that Patricia was quite so unscrupulous.  Now she knew the worst.  Harriet did not know what course to pursue, but after thinking it over she concluded that there was nothing for her to do.  As to the proposed trip to “The Pines,” surely were she to go to Cora and tell her what a wrong thing she was planning, Harriet would merely be snubbed.  Besides, it was not at all certain that Cora Kidder would go.

She heard the two girls slip into the tent and knew from their light footfalls that they were wearing their slippers.  Harriet knew, too, that they had been sitting outside clad in their wrappers, for they got into bed immediately.  There were a few whispered words, which she failed to catch, then silence settled over the tent, broken occasionally by Tommy’s unintelligible mutterings.  Tommy was dreaming again—­giving promise of having a mild form of nightmare later on.

A gust of wind set the tree-tops to rustling.  All Nature stirred restlessly.  The listening girl heard the disturbed chirpings of the birds in the trees.  Following this came the patter of raindrops on the roof of the tent.  A brilliant flash of lightning made the tent as light as day for the fraction of a second.  Harriet could plainly see the faces of the three girls in their cots.  They were asleep, or at least appeared to be sleeping, for their eyes were closed.  Then came the distant rumble of thunder.