“Not a bit,” and Frederick Varian took up his own baskets. “No one can possibly reach this house, save through that gate down by the lodge. And that is locked. Also the windows and doors of the house are all fastened. So if you people have left jewelry on your dressing tables, don’t be alarmed, you’ll find it there on your return.” “All aboard!” shouted Landon, and they started, by twos or threes, but in a moment were obliged to walk single file down the steep and narrow path. “Oh, my heavens!” cried Betty, suddenly, “I must go back! I’ve forgotten my camera. Let me take your key, Father, I’ll run and get it in a minute!” “I’ll go and get it for you, Betty,” said Varian, setting down his burden. “No, Dad, you can’t; it’s in a closet, behind a lot of other things, and you’d upset the whole lot into a dreadful mess. I know you!” “Let me go, Miss Varian,” offered several of the others, but Betty was insistent. “No one can get it but myself,—at least, not without a lot of delay and trouble. Give me the key, Father, I’ll be right back.” “But, Betty——” “Oh, give her the key, Fred!” exclaimed his wife; “don’t torment the child! I believe you enjoy teasing her! There, take the key, Betty, and run along. Hurry, do, for it’s annoying to have to wait for you.” “Let me go with you,” asked John Clark, but Betty smiled a refusal and ran off alone. Most of them watched the lithe, slight figure, as she bounded up the rugged, irregular steps, sometimes two of them at a time, and at last they saw her fitting the key into the front door. She called back a few words, but the distance was too great for them to hear her clearly, although they could see her. She waved her hand, smilingly, and disappeared inside the house, leaving the door wide open behind her. “Extraordinary place!” Herbert Varian said, taking in the marvelous crag from this new viewpoint. “You must see it from the clubhouse,” said Landon; “can’t you all come here tomorrow afternoon, on my invite?” “We’ll see,” Mrs Varian smiled at him, for it was impossible not to like this frank, good-looking youth. The conversation was entirely of the wonders and beauties of Headland House, until at last, Mrs Blackwood said, “Isn’t that child gone a long while? I could have found half a dozen cameras by this time!” “She is a long time,” Frederick Varian said, frowning; “I was just thinking that myself. I think I’ll go after her.” “No, don’t,” said his wife, nervously, “you’ll get into an argument with her, and never get back! Let her alone,—she’ll be here in a minute.” But the minutes went by, and Betty didn’t reappear in the open doorway. “I know what she’s up to,” and Frederick Varian shook his head, in annoyance. Whereupon Mrs Frederick began to cry. “Now, Fred, stop,” she said; “Herbert, you go up to the house and tell Betty to come along. If she can’t find her camera, tell her to come without it. I wish we had a megaphone so we could call her. Go on, Herbert.”