Joe laid the invitations back now with a frown. He wondered why he had gone to the trouble of printing them, since they would never be used. Even if he and Philip made up again later, those cards wouldn’t be any good, for there was the date set forth plainly: “Thursday, July 6.” And that was only a week from to-day, and Joe was very, very sure that he couldn’t be persuaded to forgive Philip in any such brief space of time as a week! He turned moodily away and looked out of the window. On the Merrill’s back porch Harper and Pete Brooks were doing something with a board and some wire. Harper kept rabbits and perhaps the contrivance had something to do with them. Joe wasn’t interested, anyway. If he had been he could easily have gained enlightenment for the porch was only fifty feet away and the back of the house acted like a sounding board and threw the voices of the two boys right in at the window. But Joe was busy with his thoughts. After all, he supposed it didn’t matter much whether Camp Peejay was painted red or green. Only, having held out for green, he wasn’t going to give in now, especially as Philip had acted so pig-headed and selfish. Viewing the question calmly, he wasn’t sure that Philip’s argument was not quite tenable. Philip had said that if they painted the camp green it wouldn’t show up well amongst the trees, and that, besides, red was a better color for winter, looking warmer and more cozy. Even before they had parted in anger, Joe had felt himself inclining toward red, but by that time too many things had been said! Gee, it was a mighty unimportant thing to quarrel about! Even in the matter of finding a name for the camp there had been no clash of opinion, although Joe had been secretly of the notion that, since the idea had originated with him, Jaypee would have been more proper, if less euphonious, than Peejay. Well, anyway, what was done was done, and if Philip expected that he, Joe, was going to back down and lick his boots he was mightily mistaken! No, sir, by jiminy! Philip could――could――