"Custard is good enough for you, Tommy Thompson," laughed Margery. "May I make the custard, Miss Elting?"

The guardian nodded smilingly.

"If you think you can."

"I'll show you. Where are the milk and the eggs and the other things?"

"The milk is in that pail that hangs over the side at the other end of the boat. The eggs are in the paper box behind the stove. The rest of your materials are in the supply box. As for water, there is a lake full of it, enough to make custard for the whole world," remarked Miss Elting.

"Now you are teasing me--and you, too, Harriet. You will be glad I thought of it, however, after you have tasted the custard."

"After I have tasted it, yes," returned Harriet significantly.

That there was some hidden meaning in Harriet's remark, Margery well knew. That was as near as she got to understanding just then. Later on she understood more fully.

"I am afraid you haven't time to make the custard for supper," added Harriet.

"It will do for dessert later in the evening. We don't have to eat everything all at once, you know." Margery was in a flurry of importance, over the idea of making the custard. Tommy, despite her apparent indifference, was eagerly waiting for the custard. It was one of her favorite dishes.

Buster broke the eggs in an agate dish, then added the milk, a cupful for each person. The eggs, of course, had first been beaten up and the sugar added. Harriet, with her skirt pinned up, was frying bacon and potatoes until the smoke in the cabin was so thick as to drive out those who were not actively engaged in getting the supper. Harriet and Margery stuck to their posts, Tommy Thompson watched the operations from the deck, now and then coughing to remind them that she was there.

"There, I think everything is ready," announced Buster. "How soon are you going to finish with the oil stove?"

"Please do not wait for me. I shall not be done here for some little time. The coffee isn't ground yet. What part of the stove do you require for your custard?"

"The oven, of course. Don't you know how to make custard?"

"Oh, yes." Harriet turned her face from her companion, apparently to avoid the smoke, but in reality that Margery might not observe her laughter. "Help yourself to the oven."

Margery groped about underneath the oil stove, burned her fingers and b.u.mped her forehead against the edge of the stove.

"If you please, don't knock the top of the stove off. We are some distance from another stove," reminded Harriet.

"I--I can't find the oven," wailed Margery.

"Don't you know why?"

"No-o."

"That is strange."

"Where is the oven?"

"There isn't any on this stove. Hadn't you discovered that yet, you silly?"

"No--oven?" repeated Buster.

"No. No oven."

"Then I've mixed my custard for nothing?"

"I am afraid you have unless you can turn the mixture to some other purpose."

Margery stared at Harriet in silence, then carefully setting the dish on the little shelf above the stove she sat down on the floor and burst into tears.

Harriet left her frying pan, and, taking Buster firmly by an arm, lifted the girl to her feet and led her out to the after deck.

"Wha--at are you go--oing to do?"

"Bathe your face for you and set you down on the deck to cool off,"

replied Harriet.

"You knew all the time that there wasn't any oven," sobbed Buster.

"Yes, of course I did. So should you have known. I let you go on--"

"Because you are mean," interjected the unhappy Margery.

"No. To teach you to use your eyes. You should learn to be observing.

Didn't you hear us talking about that oven when Jane brought home the stove?"

"Ye--es. I had forgotten."

"Of course you had. Now get ready for supper. To-morrow I will make an oven of stones on the sh.o.r.e and you shall make your custard and you shall have it all to yourself, if you wish, just to punish us for being so mean to you. Will that satisfy you, Buster?"

"Ye--ye--yes," answered Buster, with three distinct catches in her voice.

"Come, now, dry your eyes, that's a dear," urged Harriet. "Tommy!"

"Yeth?"

"Will you kindly place the chairs. Supper will be served in the cabin as soon as the coffee is ready."

Tommy proceeded noisily about her task of putting the chairs in place at the table. Soon after that Harriet with a dish towel whipped the smoke out of the cabin and then announced that supper was ready. Margery's eyes were red and she had little to say, but her appet.i.te was unaffected by her late bitter disappointment.

"Now tell us of your latest scheme, Harriet," urged the guardian after they had settled down to their supper.

"My scheme? Which scheme?"

There was a laugh at Harriet's expense.

"There, girls! You see. Harriet has so many schemes and plans in her head that she doesn't know which is which. I mean your second scheme for fooling the Tramp Club, Harriet."

"Oh, yes. I know. I am not going to put it into operation until to-morrow. You may not approve of it, but I hope you will."

"I don't think you have reason to complain of my opposing your plans, Harriet. To tell the truth, I enjoy them as much as you. But before we go any further with our discussion, do you not think it would be an excellent idea to hang a blanket over that rear door. The light might attract attention from the lake and bring undesirable persons here."

"Thank you. I never thought of it." Harriet rose at once. Selecting a long blanket, she fastened it over the doorway, after which she drew down the shades. The door at the other end of the boat opened on to a solid wall of rock, so that no light could escape from that end. Harriet was about to resume her seat at the table, when she paused sharply, raising her hand as a signal for silence.