Dolly's parents gave her practically the same advice. But they felt little fear of Dolly's likelihood of rushing into madcap adventures even if Dotty urged it. For Dolly was slow of movement and slower still in making up her mind; while Dotty was quick as a flash in thought and action.
Mrs. Fayre sighed a little as she selected Dolly's wardrobe. She dearly loved to array her pretty daughter in muslins and organdies with dainty laces and ribbons; but camp life called for stout frocks of tweed or gingham, heavy walking boots and no fripperies.
"I shall put in one or two pretty dresses," Mrs. Fayre said, "in case you are invited to a party or any such affair. And the rest of your summer things I will have ready for you, when you come back and join us at the seashore."
And so the first of August, Mr. and Mrs. Rose and their two daughters with Dolly as the guest started for the Crosstrees Camp.
It was a sad parting between Dolly and her mother and at the last Dolly declared flatly she would not go, and throwing herself in her mother's arms burst into tears.
"Rubbish!" cried Rob, who was dancing about in his efforts to get Dolly started. "I'm ashamed of you, Towhead! Brace up now, and have a nerve. One final wrench and off you go!"
The boy literally tore Dolly from Mrs. Fayre's arms and boosted her in to the Roses' motor car which was waiting to take them to the station.
"All aboard! Go ahead!" Bob called out, waving his hand to the chauffeur and the car started off at a brisk rate.
"You know you needn't go, Dolly, even yet, if you don't want to," and Mrs. Rose smiled kindly at the little girl, as they flew down the avenue.