"No, it's Evelyn," she whispered back. "Don't be surprised. I thought everybody in the camp was asleep."
"I wasn't sleepy, and thought I'd lounge here till I was. What's the matter? Anybody sick?"
"No. I'm just going for a little walk."
"Walk? At this hour? Can't you sleep? But you mustn't go and walk alone, you know. I'll go with you."
She did not want to tell him, but she saw no other way.
"It's Lucy," she explained hurriedly. "She's dressed and gone out somewhere, and I can't think why. It frightened me, and I'm going to follow her."
"No, you stay here and I'll follow. Which way did she go? What can she be up to? That girl's a queer one, and I've thought so from the first."
"No, no! There's some explanation. It may be she walks in her sleep, you know--though I'm sure she's never done it this winter. Let me go, Jeff; she'll get too far. She took the path toward the river. Oh, if it should be sleep-walking----"
"I guess it's not sleep-walking." Jeff's tone was skeptical.
But Evelyn had started away at a run, and Jeff was after her. The two hastened along with light, noiseless steps. At the bottom of the path, on the very brink of the river, was an old summer-house, looking out over the water. It was a favourite retreat, for the boat-house and the landing were but a rod away, and after a row on the river the shaded summer-house was a pleasant place in which to linger.