The other girls were drowsy when Ruth kissed Mother Paisley good-night and entered the small shack. She was glad to escape any interrogation. By morning she had gained control of herself, but her eyes betrayed the fact that she had not slept.
“You certainly do not look as though you were enjoying yourself down here,” Tom Cameron said to her at breakfast time, and with suspicion. “Maybe we did come to the wrong place for our vacation after all. How about it, Ruth? Shall we start off in the cars again and seek pastures new?”
“Not now, Tom,” she told him, hastily. “I must stay right here.”
“Why?”
“Because——”
“That is no sensible reason.”
“Let me finish,” she said rather crossly. “Because I must see what sort of scenario Mr. Hammond finds—if he finds any—in this contest.”
“Humph! And you said you and scenarios were done forever! I fancy Mr. Hammond is taking advantage of your good nature.”
“He is not.”
“You are positively snappish, Ruth,” complained Tom. “You’ve changed your mind——”