"Well, in the name of all that's ridiculous," exclaimed Mary; "of all that's impertinent!—will somebody kindly tell me what my personality has to do with our prospectus of The Camp?"

Those who could have told her held their tongues and quaked inwardly. The others joined in Mary's surprise and indignation. Even Arthur, who hated the whole innkeeping scheme, was roused out of his ordinary placidity.

"I shall write to the horrid old woman," said Mary, "and tell her to mind her own business. I shall also tell her that we are receiving so many applications for accommodations that we don't know how to choose. That isn't quite true, of course; but we have received some. Since I am not above sacrificing my dignity"—she went on angrily—"to financial gain, I may as well throw a few lies into the bargain."

The next day, addressed to "The Camp," came the long-expected number of The Four Seasons. Arthur opened it and began to turn the leaves. Presently, from the centre of a page, he saw his six beautiful sisters looking him in the face.

"Mary!" he called, in such a voice that she came running. She looked and turned white. Eve came, and Maud and Phyllis.

"Who is responsible for this—" cried Arthur, "for this sickening—this degraded piece of mischief?"

"You corrected the final proofs yourself," said Maud.

"And sealed them up. If I find that some mischief-maker in the office of The Four Seasons has been playing tricks—"

"The mischief-makers are to be found nearer home," said Mary. "Don't you remember that Lee and Gay took the proofs to the post-office. They said they were bored and could think of nothing to do. This is what they were thinking of doing!"

"Where are they?" he said in a grim voice.

"Now, Arthur," said Maud, "think before you say anything to them that you may regret. As for the picture of us in our bathing-suits—well, I, for one, don't see anything dreadful about it. In fact, I think we look rather lovely."

Arthur groaned.

"I want to talk to Lee and Gay," he said. "My sisters—an advertisement in a magazine—for drummers and newsboys to make jokes about—"

He grew white and whiter, until his innocent sisters were thoroughly frightened. Then he started out of the playroom in search of Lee and Gay.

In or about The Camp they were not to be found. Nobody had seen them since breakfast. With this information, he returned to the playroom.

"They've run away," he said, "and I'm going after them."

"I wouldn't," said Mary. "The harm's been done. You can't very well spank them. I wish you could. You can only scold—and what earthly good will that do them, or you?"

"I don't know that anything I may say," said Arthur, "will do them any good. I live in hopes."

"Have you any idea where they've gone?"

"I'll cast about in a big circle and find their tracks."

When Arthur, mittened and snow-shoed, had departed in search of Lee and Gay, the remaining sisters gathered about the full-page advertisement in The Four Seasons, and passed rapidly from anger to mild hysterics. Mary was the last to laugh.