“I’m not so sure of that, sir.”
“Indeed!”
“Girls do camp out; I’ve heard about it; parties of ladies and gentlemen go out up on the Adirondacks. You might take Sarah Rowe and me.”
Tom smiled a very superior smile.
“Come, Tom, do—there’s a good fellow!”
“Take along a couple of girls that can’t fish, and scream when you shoot a squirrel, and are always having headaches, and spraining their ankles, and afraid to be left alone? No, thank you!”
“I can fish, and I’m no more afraid to be left alone than you are!” said Gypsy, indignantly. “I’ll go and ask mother.”
She ran down stairs, slamming all the doors, and rushed noisily into the parlor.
“Oh, mother! Tom’s going to camp out with Mr. Guy Hallam, and can’t Sarah and I go, too?”
“Oh, what now?” said Mrs. Breynton, laughing, and laying down her work.