These week-ends in August were hard work for all concerned and now there was talk of some of the guests staying over for much longer and spending two weeks with them. That meant no cessation of fillin' 'em up. Previous to this time, Monday had been a blessed day for all the camp, boarders gone and time to take stock and rest, but now there was to be no let up in the filling process. Susan, for the time completely demoralized by the return of her beloved mistress, had left her work to whomsoever it might concern and had constituted herself lady's maid for Mrs. Carter. She unpacked boxes and parcels, hovering over the pretty things purchased in New York; she fetched and carried for that dainty lady, ignoring completely the steady stream of week-enders climbing up the mountain or being carried up by the faithful and sturdy mountain goat, with the silent Bill as chauffeur. Helen had reluctantly torn herself from the delectable boxes and parcels and was busily engaged in concocting a wonderful potato salad, something she always attended to herself. Gwen was making batter bread after having put to rise pan after pan of rolls. Oscar had begun to fry the apples, a dish ever in demand at camp. The Brunswick stew had been safely deposited in the fireless cooker early in the day and all was going well. "There!" exclaimed Helen, putting the finishing touch to the last huge bowl of salad and stepping back to admire her handiwork. "That substantial salad unites beauty and utility." "It sho' do, Miss Helen, it sho' do!" declared Oscar, adroitly turning his apples just as they reached the proper stage of almost and not quite being candied. "They's nothin' like tater salid fer contitutioning a foumdation stone on which to build fillin' victuals. It's mo' satisfying to my min' than the staft of life itself. All I is a-hopin' is that they won't lick the platter befo' I gits to it." "You are safe there, Oscar, as I made this extra dishful to be kept back so you and Susan will be sure to get some." "Susan, indeed!" sniffed her fellow-servant. "She ain't called on to expect no favors at yo' han'. To be foun' by the wayside, a fallin' down wantin' jes' at this crucible moment!" "I think she is helping mother." "Then I's got nothin' to say--but I 'low she helpin' yo' maw with one han' an' Susan Jourdan with yudder."