"Do you consider yourself acquainted with Gwynne and me?"
"Of course. I meant any of the others."
"Well," Myra spoke dubiously, "if you don't, I think you will get acquainted easily." And with that remark she adroitly turned the conversation and managed to avoid that subject during the rest of their journey.
When the train drew into the dingy little depot the next morning, and the trio gathered up their wraps preparatory to alighting, Tabitha was suddenly heard to ejaculate, "Why, there is Dad! And he's talking with—Miss Pomeroy, as sure as I'm alive! Myra Haskell, is Miss Pomeroy occupying one of those twelve tents?"
Myra glanced hastily through the iron gates, saw that Tabitha was right, and demurely nodded her head.
"Then I can imagine who the others are."
"Bet you can't! At least, not all."
"Bet I can!"
"Who, then, smarty?"
"Grace Tilton, Bessie Jorris, Jessie Wayne, Julia, Chrystie—is Chrystie there?"