"Good morning!" cried Felicia, appearing suddenly in the doorway.
"Dicky is sick," she announced, "and Charley sent me down here for the day. She said please for you not to come up because Dicky is so cross, she doesn't want any one around."
Ernest and Roger looked at each other.
"I think I'd better go up," said Roger.
"No, I'll go," insisted Ernest.
"Charley doesn't want you," cried Felicia. "She says so and she always means what she says."
"Oh, you've found that out, have you?" asked Ernest. "Well, have a flapjack; my cook is an artist."
"I've had breakfast, thank you," replied the little girl. "I'm going out and look at the things in the wagon."
"Go to it!" exclaimed Ernest. Then to Roger, "I see you've struck water at last. That news evidently impressed you less than other events, last night."
Roger nodded. "There's not much of it and it's vile to taste. But it'll take care of our camp wants and the engine. Charley suggested that if we didn't strike an adequate supply when we drove the well farther, we'd better set the plant up at their place. They'd be our first customers."