"That wouldn't be such a bad mess," laughed the doctor. "The vegetable and meat juices would make a rich broth and you could serve soup, meat and vegetables all in one plate. Think of the saving of that." "As Cousin Helen said, it wouldn't take campers long to revert to savagery," ejaculated Billie. "We are already as brown as Indians. We keep our sleeves rolled up and our collars turned in and wear creepers instead of shoes, and always khaki skirts, and never dress for supper. Even Cousin Helen has slipped back a peg--" "It's the only possible way to enjoy camping," broke in the doctor. "But you would never get to be an all the way savage. Look at that remarkable young woman, Miss Phoebe, who has never had anything else in all her life,--she is far from being a savage." "Indeed she is," said Billie. "She has never been to school in her life, but she knows a great deal more about some things than I do--astronomy, for instance, and English history." "There is more than that," put in Elinor, leaning over to join in the conversation. "Phoebe has learned something else that keeps her from ever being ill or tired or unhappy. I asked her what it was and she said it was a secret." "Speaking of angels," remarked Ben, "there is Phoebe in front of us now, carrying a basket. I suppose she is going to the Antler's Inn to sell some of her father's work." Far ahead of them, swinging along the dusty road, was Phoebe. Her tall, slender figure swayed gracefully with the movement of the walk, but her shoulders did not bend under the burden of the large basket. A hot, dry wind blew her skirts about her and flapped the brim of her jimmie hat. Since the night at Sunrise Camp, Phoebe had never gone barefooted again, and she now wore a pair of canvas creepers that gave a spring to her step as she hurried along. Keeping time to the rhythm of her steps, Phoebe chanted softly in a rich, clear voice: "'The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want. "'He maketh me to lie down in the green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.'" The whir of the motor car interrupted the chanting, and, with an absent-minded glance over her shoulder, she stepped to the side of the road to wait for it to pass. But the "Comet" stopped short and all the occupants called out, "Good morning," with an especial cordiality. Phoebe bowed her head gravely. Her eyes had a remote expression as if she had been awakened from a dream. Ben opened the door of the car and jumped out, while Billie exclaimed: "I am so glad we met you, Phoebe, because now you will let us give you a lift." Phoebe looked into Billie's kind gray eyes for a moment and then smiled as if she had found something there that pleased her. "I will come," she said, as Ben took the basket from her arm and helped her into the car. "Have you walked across the mountain this morning?" he asked, when they had started on their way again. "I started early," she said, "when it was cool."