_P.S._—I remember that it is my birthday, and all that you have done for me, to-day and all the other days. It looks as if I were ungrateful, but in spite of what I did I am not. The words just blazed out, and I never knew that they were going to be said till I heard them falling from my mouth. It seems to me that if I ever atone for this I will have a slate and pencil hanging to my belt, and only write what I have to say. POLLY. The moisture came to Mrs. Winship’s eyes as she read this tear-stained little note. ‘There’s something here I don’t quite understand,’ she thought; ‘and yet Polly confessed that Laura told the truth. Poor child!—but she has got to learn patience and self-control through suffering. However, I’ll keep the matter a secret from everybody at present, and stand between her and my inquisitive brood of youngsters,’ and she slipped the note into her pocket. At six o’clock the members of the family came into camp from various directions, and gathered about the supper-table. All were surprised at Laura’s sudden departure, but no one seemed especially grief-stricken. Dicky announced confidentially to Philip that Laura was a ‘norful ’fraid-cat of frogs,’ and Jack ventured the opinion that Miss Laura hadn’t ‘boy’ enough in her for camp-life. ‘But where is Polly?’ asked Bell, looking round the table, as she pinned up her riding-skirt and sat down in her usual seat. ‘She has a bad headache, and is lying down,’ said Mrs. Winship, quietly; ‘she’ll be all right in the morning.’ ‘Headache!’ ejaculated four or five people at once, dropping their napkins and looking at each other in dismay. ‘I’ll go and rub her head with cologne,’ said Margery. ‘Let me go and sit with her,’ said Elsie. ‘Have you been teasing her, Jack?’ asked Mrs. Howard. ‘Too much birthday?’ asked Dr. Paul. ‘Tell her we can spare almost anybody else better.’ ‘Bless the child, she wants me if she is sick. Go on with your suppers, I’ll see to her,’ and Bell rose from the table. ‘No, my dear, I want you all to leave her alone at present,’ said Mrs. Winship, decidedly. ‘I’ve put her to bed in Dicky’s play-tent, and I want her to be quiet. Gin has taken her some supper, and she needs rest.’ Polly Oliver in need of rest! What an incomprehensible statement! Nobody was satisfied, but there was nothing more to be said, though Bell and Philip exchanged glances as much as to say, ‘Something is wrong.’