"Hang on to the railing, Doll," said Dotty; "the steps are slippery, a little."
Passing under the crosstrees, to which Mr. Rose drew Dolly's attention as the name of the camp, they came to a sort of bungalow or long, low house.
"Is this the camp?" said Dolly, in surprise. "I thought it was tents. You said so, Dot."
"There are tents, too. Only on stormy nights we sleep inside. Come on in, Doll. Isn't it fine?"
Dolly Fayre looked around at the bare boarded rooms, the scant furniture and rough walls of the cabin, for it was little more than that.
She was cold and rather hungry, but underneath these discomforts was a far more troublesome one which she tried not to think about, but which she felt sure was going to develop into an acute case of homesickness.
"Run up to your rooms, girlies, and take off your things," said Mrs. Rose, cheerily. "We'll eat inside to-night, and Maria will make us some of her good flap-jacks for supper."
Maria was an old coloured servant and the only one who accompanied the Rose family to camp. Other help that might be needed they procured from some of the natives who were glad to do odd jobs for the summer people.
Dolly followed Dotty and Genie upstairs where there was a long row of tiny bedrooms opening onto a narrow hall. These bedrooms had ceilings which slanted right down to the floor, so one could not stand upright after advancing a few feet into the room.
"Aren't they funny rooms?" said Dotty, laughing with glee at Dolly's blank-looking countenance. "But you'll get used to them soon. Of course you have to bend double, except just here by the door, but that's nothing. This one is yours, Dolly, and mine is right next and then Genie's. Mother and Father have a room downstairs. But we won't sleep here, we'll sleep in the open tent to-night, it's plenty warm enough. Oh, it's such fun!"