"Anyhow," said Mabel, rather huffily, "I meant to be polite."
"You were," assured Mr. Black, patting the hunched shoulder, "because it's our meaning that counts; and we all know that you meant well."
"I wonder," queried Jean, "if Dave does?"
"I fear," returned Mr. Black, "that the workings of that rascal's mind would be pretty hard to follow—let's see if his boat is in sight."
But it wasn't, so Mr. Black got the wood and the water that he was paying Dave to bring and arranged the evening bonfire.
And the sick boy, in spite of the young campers' impatience to learn his story, still slept. Mrs. Crane, by this time, was almost sure that he would never waken.