Her hysterics ended as suddenly as they had begun. And then she wasted a valuable half-hour apologizing for having had them; Herring protesting all the while that he had enjoyed them just as much as she had, and that they had done him a world of good. And then they had to stop talking because their teeth began to chatter so hard that they simply couldn't keep on. Herring stuttered something about, "Exercise is what a body needs," and they rose to their feet and fought their way through a dense grove of arbor-vitæ. "The stealthy Indian goes through such places without making a sound," said Herring. "Or getting his moccasins wet," said Phyllis. "Oh!" And she sank to the waist. "Never mind," said Herring, "it will be dark before long. And when we have no choice of where to step, maybe we'll have better luck." "It will _have_ to be dark very soon," said Phyllis, "if we have any more of our clothes taken away from us by the brambles." "That's a new idea!" exclaimed Herring. "Young couple starve to death in the woods because modesty forbids them to join their friends in the open. The head-line might be: 'Stripped by Brambles,' or 'The Two Bares.'" He was so pleased with his joke that he had to lean against a tree. The laughing set him to coughing, and Phyllis beat him methodically between the shoulders. Herring still refused to be serious. In helping Phyllis over the bad places, he performed prodigies of misapplied strength and made prodigious puns. And he said that never in his life had he been in such a delightful scrape. Once, while they were resting, Phyllis said: "All you seem to think of is the fun you're having. Most men would be thinking about the anxiety they were causing others and about the miseries of their companion." "But," he protested, "you are enjoying yourself too. You don't think you are, but you are. It's your philosophy that is wrong. You like to live too much in the present. I like to lay by stores of delightful memories against rainy days. The worse you feel now, the more you'll enjoy remembering how you felt--some evening, soon--your back against soft cushions and the soles of your feet toward the fire." "Ugh!" shuddered Phyllis. "Don't talk about fires. Oh, dear!" "What's wrong _now_!" "I'm so stiff I don't think I can take another step. We oughtn't to have rested so long." But she did take another step, and would have fallen heavily if Herring had not caught her. A moment later she lost a shoe in the ooze, and wasted much precious daylight in vain efforts to locate and recover it. "Sit down on that root," commanded Herring. And she obeyed. He knelt before her, lifted her wet, muddy little stockinged foot and set it on his knee. "What size, please, miss?" he asked, giving an excellent imitation of a somewhat officious salesman. "I don't know; I have them made," said Phyllis wearily, but trying her best to smile.