"But Mr. Lupo isn't here," objected Miss Campbell. "He's gone to the village."

"We know the way, don't we, Ben? Mr. Lupo showed us the trail yesterday.

Most of it goes through the woods. It's only two miles across 'Table Top' and then we get to the other mountain. I'm wild to go. I'm beginning to feel shut in, and I want to see what's on the other side of this Chinese wall."

"More Chinese walls," observed Ben gravely.

"Mr. Lupo is such a restraining influence," put in Nancy. "When he's along, we have no real conversation."

"He is a kind of a wet blanket," observed Percy. "You never know whether he has heard you or not. You generally have a feeling he has, but that your remarks are too trivial for comment."

"All of which means," said Miss Campbell, "that you want to go off for the day without a guide."

"Please, Cousin Helen," pleaded Billie.

"Dear Miss Campbell, won't you let us?" cried the other Motor Maids.

"Not because that feather-top Percy is with you, but because Ben is here, I suppose I might as well consent," said Miss Campbell.

"Old Ben is just as much of a feather-top as I am, Miss Campbell,"

protested Percy. "He deceives people because he looks like an Indian.

I've got a serious mind underneath all this curl and color."

"I don't believe it," answered Miss Campbell. "But I wouldn't have you changed, my boy. I like you as you are."

After this two-sided compliment, they took it for granted that consent had been given and Billie rushed off to see Mrs. Lupo about the lunch.

They had come to learn during that first week in camp that Mrs. Lupo was a law unto herself. For one thing, the blackberries that Billie had purchased of the mountain girl had never come to the table, although the girls kept looking for them to appear in the form of a cobbler or a roly-poly pudding. What had become of them they never learned, but Billie had an uncomfortable suspicion that they had been tossed into the garbage pail.

"We can't do anything about it, my dear," Miss Campbell had informed Billie. "The woman certainly holds us in the hollow of her hand unless we want to do our own cooking."

Billie smiled. Miss Campbell was never known to boil a kettleful of water, let alone cook a meal. If there was any culinary work to be done the Motor Maids would do it, and Miss Campbell might possibly arrange the salt cellars or offer to go over the silver with a polishing cloth.

Mrs. Lupo dumbly acquiesced to the lunch.

"We will be glad to make the sandwiches, Mrs. Lupo," said Billie timidly. "Please let us have some cold meat. I suppose there is plenty of bread? Will you hard-boil a dozen eggs?"

Mrs. Lupo rarely replied to any question addressed to her, but she went about getting the things for the lunch and Billie breathed a sigh of silent thanks.

"It's really terrible to be a slave to one's cook," she thought. "But I know perfectly well that if I ever tried to subjugate Mrs. Lupo I'd get mad, and she would just fold her tent like the Arab and silently steal away, and one morning there would be no breakfast."

Billie had tried several methods with Mrs. Lupo. She had said good morning with a polite smile, but received no response. Once she had added:

"How do you feel this morning, Mrs. Lupo?"

A dead silence had followed this courteous inquiry.

"Wires crossed," Percy had cried. "Try again, Central."

They had all laughed at this witticism and Billie had hoped Mrs. Lupo had not understood.

"If you had lived in the mountains all your life I guess you wouldn't be very communicative, either," she had admonished Percy, after Mrs. Lupo had glided noiselessly out of the room.

"I guess I wouldn't miss a call," answered Percy. "If there was any one to call, I wouldn't hang up the receiver."

There were times, however, when Billie could scarcely conceal her irritation, and this morning nothing went quite as she had planned.

There was only enough bread for a dozen sandwiches and there were only six eggs.

"But I said a dozen eggs, Mrs. Lupo," she said, after she had sliced and b.u.t.tered the bread and glancing up saw six eggs cooling in a pan. "You know we are going to take a long walk across Table Top to Indian Head."

The silence was profound.

"And we need more bread. Will you get me another loaf, please?"

No reply. Mrs. Lupo was quietly stringing beans on a bench by the door of the lean-to which served the camp as a kitchen.

"Did you hear what I asked?" demanded Billie.

Nancy and Mary, placing ham between the slices of bread, looked up quickly, half amused and half frightened.

"Did you hear me ask you a question, Mrs. Lupo?" repeated Billie, exasperated beyond endurance.

Mrs. Lupo went on stringing beans.

Brandishing the long carving knife, Billie went over and stood in front of the strange woman. Percy, peeping through the half open door, was grinning, and Nancy stifled a giggle.

"When I speak to you I expect an answer, Mrs. Lupo," said Billie, trying to keep her voice smooth and even. "Now, answer me at once."

Mrs. Lupo looked up mildly surprised.

"There ain't no more bread and there ain't no more eggs," she said, in a voice that sounded like an echo.

Billie went back to her work without a word, and later, when they had started on the walk with the small allowance of lunch packed in a candy box, Percy teased her and called her the javelin thrower.

"I _was_ almost tempted to pitch it at her," said Billie. "She is the most aggravating human being I ever saw. I'll certainly never address another word to her, but it's so hard to remember not to be agreeable."

The placid depths of Billie's amiable nature had been so stirred by the incident that it took her some time to calm down, and she went blindly along the trail following Ben without seeing anything or anybody.

"Don't let her jar you, Billie," said Ben, soothingly. "If you want to forget your troubles, just have a look at Nancy-Bell. She looks like a fashion plate lady standing on the top of Mont Blanc."

Nancy had disappeared just when they were ready to start and kept them waiting fifteen minutes, which had also served to aggravate Billie's ruffled temper.

"Goodness me," exclaimed Billie, laughing, "the child has put on her new walking costume made by Delosia Moxley's mother! When the climbing part comes, what will she do, Ben?"

Ben shook his head doubtfully.

"How do you like it, Billie dear?" asked Nancy in a honeyed tone, noticing her friend's backward glances.

"It's awfully pretty, Nancy. Lovely color, but----"