“She’s going! She’s going!” she cried, rushing into the drawing-room, where her three friends were anxiously awaiting news, and Mr. Campbell, almost as anxious himself, was pacing the floor, his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
“Good work, little daughter!” he said, pausing in his walk. “I knew you could win her over if anybody could, although last night I was afraid we hadn’t the ghost of a show. She was dead set against it. The word ‘camp’ alone seemed to make her wild.”
“But, you see, she thought it was tents and flies and mosquitoes and tin cups.”
Mr. Campbell smiled.
“I think we won’t tell her any more, now that she has made up her mind. We’ll give her a little surprise. Call the camp a log hut and let it go at that.”
“Now, about clothes——” began Nancy Brown, and her friends all smiled. “Well, one must have clothes, even on a camping trip. Don’t you think a blue corduroy would be attractive, with a touch of coral pink in the silk tie, say; and high russet walking boots—the kind that lace, you know——”
“They must have rubber soles,” put in Billie, “no matter what the tops are.”
“And a straw hat in the natural color, with a brim that droops slightly, and a pheasant’s tail feather, slightly at one side——”
There was another burst of laughter at this juncture, and Mr. Campbell joined in.
“Miss Nancy,” he said, “I’m afraid you’ll have everything from hedge hogs to wood choppers at your feet if you make yourself so attractive in silks and velvets and russets——”