It was just where she had left it. Nobody was in sight. She gazed again over the lovely, serene landscape, and, taking the suitcase, she went, singing, up-stairs. The guest-room was easily recognized and Betty felt at liberty to appropriate it for her own use. She was an invited guest, and if no hostess or servant was present to conduct her to her room, she must look after her own rights. “I’m just like Robinson Crusoe,” she chuckled to herself. “I’m stranded on a desert island, with not a human being near. But, luckily, there’s food in the pantry, for really, with all these exciting experiences, I’m getting hungry.” She opened her suitcase and shook out her pretty dresses. Then she changed her traveling-frock for the light organdie, and having bathed, and brushed her hair, she felt rather better. “Well, it’s nearly noon,” she said, looking at her watch, “and, as I’ve no one to consult but myself, I may as well have an early luncheon. If the Careys come in while I’m eating, I’ll invite them to lunch with me.” So down-stairs Betty went, smiling to think of herself as Betty Crusoe. But as she passed the door of the living-room and glanced inside, her smile faded. Her eyes grew big with amazement, her cheeks turned pale, and a shiver of fear shook her. On the table lay a man’s hat! “It _couldn’t_ have been there when I was in here before,” she thought, “for I looked into those books, and now the hat’s on top of them!” It was a forlorn old hat, of light-gray felt, but soiled and torn, and Betty’s frightened heart told her that it was the hat of some marauder, and not of any member of the Carey family. With a sudden scream, which she could not repress, she ran and hid behind a large Japanese screen in the corner of the room. “Who’s there?” called a man’s voice from the hall. It was a loud, gruff voice, and poor Betty shook and shivered as she crouched behind the screen. “Who’s there?” repeated the voice, and Betty heard heavy footsteps coming in at the living-room door. Then there was silence. The man was apparently awaiting Betty’s next move. Then he said again: “Who screamed just now? Where are you?” and somehow this time his voice did not sound quite so ferocious. But Betty had no intention of answering, and she squeezed into her corner, hoping that he would go away. Then suddenly the whimsical idea came to her that, as she was personating Robinson Crusoe, this was probably the Man Friday who had arrived. This amused her so much that she giggled in spite of her fear. The man heard the smothered sound, and going straight to the screen, he pulled it suddenly away. Betty, who was sitting on the floor, looked up to see a stalwart young man of a college type staring down at her. His costume of summer outing clothes was informal, but at once betokened he was no marauder. Also, his handsome, sunburnt face and frank blue eyes showed a kindly though surprised expression.