Peter Sadler was an early riser, and when the front hall door was open he appeared thereat, rolling his wheeled chair out upon the piazza with a bump--though not with very much of a bump, for the house was built to suit him and his chair. But he did not take his usual morning roll upon the piazza, for, turning his head, he beheld a gentleman and two ladies fast asleep in three great wicker chairs. "Upon my soul!" he exclaimed. "If they ain't the Camp Robbers!" At this exclamation they all awoke. Ten minutes after that the tale had been told, and if the right arm of Mr. Sadler's chair had not been strong and heavy it would have been shivered into splinters. "As usual," cried the stalwart Peter, "the wrong people ran away. If I had seen that bicycle man and his party come running out of the woods, I should have been much better satisfied, and I should have thought you had more spirit in you, sir, than I gave you credit for." "Oh, you mistake my husband altogether!" cried Mrs. Archibald. "The trouble with him is that he has too much spirit, and that is the reason I brought him away." "And there is another thing," exclaimed Margery. "You should not say Mr. Raybold and his party. He was the only one of them who behaved badly." "That is true," said Mrs. Archibald. "His sister is somewhat obtrusive, but she is a lady, gentle and polite, and it would have been very painful to her and as painful to us had it been necessary forcibly to eject her brother from our camp. It was to avoid all this that we--" "Eloped," interjected Mr. Archibald. [Illustration: "'IF THEY AIN'T THE CAMP ROBBERS!'"] The good Peter laughed. "Perhaps you are right," said he. "But I shall have a word with that bicycle fellow when he comes this way. You are an original party, if there ever was one. First you go on somebody else's wedding-journey, and then you elope in the middle of the night, and now the best thing you can do is to go to bed. You can have a good sleep and a nine-o'clock breakfast, and I do not see why you should leave here for two or three days." "Oh, we must go this morning," said Mrs. Archibald, quickly. "We must go. We really cannot wait until any of those people come here. It makes me nervous to think about it." "Very good, then," said Peter. "The coach starts for the train at eleven." Mrs. Archibald was a systematic woman, and was in the habit of rising at half-past seven, and when that hour arrived she awoke as if she had been asleep all night. Going to the window to see what sort of a day it was, which was also her custom, she looked out upon the lawn in front of the house, and her jaw dropped and her eyes opened. There she beheld Margery and Mr. Clyde strolling along in close converse. For a moment she was utterly stupefied.