“Grace Harlowe, what are you laughing at?” demanded Anne.
“I was thinking of something very, very funny,” replied Grace.
“Let me in on the joke, please,” begged Emma.
“Not now. Perhaps later on.”
Elfreda regarded her frowningly.
“If you play any tricks on us, Loyalheart, you will be sorry,” warned Miss Briggs.
“How can you even suggest such a thing?” cried Grace. “Did you ever know me to play pranks on my friends?”
“There have been occasions when suspicions assumed real shapes in my mind,” retorted Elfreda.
“See to it that this is not one of those occasions. I believe we are about ready to make our start. Mr. Fairweather, where is there a good place for us to make camp to-night? I do not think we should try to make the Lodge this evening. All we desire is to take the coach into the mountains, make camp, and come back in the early morning. It doesn’t matter whether or not we go so far as the Lodge.”
“Squaw Valley or just beyond I reckon is as good as any place on the trail,” observed the driver, reflectively stroking his whiskers.