after life. I am putting it up to you, Zan, to see that your nursing of this peculiar invalid does not tend to prolong the malady, but will nip the growth of the trouble in its present stage. Perhaps a few months hence would be too late, and a cure would be impossible. I rely on you, daughter, to help in this cure!"

Zan's brothers, Frederick, nicknamed Fiji on account of his unmanageable hair, and Bobs, short for Robert, had left the dining-room to study their lessons. Mrs. Baker, the doctor and Zan remained, so that an uninterrupted silence followed the serious words of the doctor.

Zan sighed heavily, and finally looked up at her father with a bright smile. "I'll do it, if it takes all the spice out of camp-life!"

The doctor smiled as he replied, "It won't, Zan! In fact, you'll have all the better fun for knowing in your own heart that you are doing a duty as well as pleasing your Dad!"

"And while the boys and I are enjoying the days at the beach, I will feel happier than otherwise, to know you are showing your companions what real joy and contentment means when found in natural out-door living," added Mrs. Baker.

CHAPTER TWO
CHOOSING A CAMP SITE

Boxes were shipped, tents and cots had been sent, and the hundred and one last items always remembered on the day of departure had been attended to, when Miss Miller met her five charges at the Pennsylvania Terminal, where they expected to take a train to reach the junction in New Jersey. At Junction they would have to change and take a local train before arriving at the insignificant station ten miles from Wickeecheokee Farm.

As the train whizzed by well-cultivated farms, magnificent estates, and later, through beautiful, wooded hills, fertile valleys, and over sparkling waters, the bevy of eager girls exclaimed delightedly at every new scene. A recent shower had cleared the atmosphere, and the verdure shone a brilliant green in the bright sunshine. Birds soared high above tree-tops, singing joyously, while cattle moved leisurely, grazing over the pastures seen in passing.

"Oh, my, but it feels good to be out of the hot dusty city!" sighed Jane, leaning back in the seat and inhaling the fragrant air.

"Yes, I can actually think—away from trolleys and rumble of trucks," added Zan, pensively.

"That's a novelty for you!" teased Hilda, smiling.

"I can hardly believe my eyes! It seems too good to be true—a whole summer with no one to pester you about sickness!" said Elena, with relief expressed on her face.

Miss Miller smiled, but she wondered what the mothers would think if they but knew how glad their girls were to get away from nagging foolish worry. How much better to recognise in each girl of their age a certain amount of responsibility for themselves, and guide by example or suggestion, instead of demands or coercion.

"Next station is Junction—change cars for all stops on the Rahway River branch!" shouted a brakeman from the platform.

"So soon! Why, it doesn't seem like an hour and a half, does it?" exclaimed Zan.

"Why, no! I thought we were only half way there!" replied Miss Miller, as the girls hastily gathered their baggage together.

The party hurried off, and across the platform to a waiting local train on a side-track. The engine and coaches were old-fashioned, the windows small and set high from the floor. The girls laughed at the sight of such cars, and climbed up the high narrow steps to the platform.

Farmers constituted the majority of the passengers and the city girls were amused at the different types presented before them.

"Girls, let's open these windows immediately! Mercy, how can any one sit in these stuffy cars with the crevices all stopped to prevent a breath of fresh air entering!" exclaimed Miss Miller, impatiently.

The girls laughed, for it was one of the teacher's pet theories that plenty of fresh air never injured anybody.

The farmers looked askance, however, when the pleasant air circulated through the car and drove forth the obnoxious odours.

Many of the travellers left the train at small way-stations and Miss Miller's party had the car all to themselves during the last few miles of the ride. Zan recognised the land-marks that showed her they were almost through with their journey, and she ordered the girls to get ready to leave the car.

Bill Sherwood had been notified that the party would arrive at noon, and had his team and farm-wagon waiting at the station when the would-be campers jumped down and looked about in high spirits. Zan introduced each one to Bill, while the latter grinned and held his palmetto hat circling in his toil-hardened hands.

Straw had been piled in the bottom of the wagon and the girls were lifted over the great wheel and dropped into the soft straw. Miss Miller was accorded the distinction of sitting on the high spring seat beside the driver. She held her breath in trembling and grasped the edge of the rocking seat whenever Bill turned a corner or gave way to a passing vehicle on the narrow road.

The drive over the hills was beautiful and Bill pointed out various spots along the road and explained the value of soil, herbage, and trees.

After seven or eight miles had been covered, the horses began ascending a steep hill well-timbered.

"When we get to the top of this climb you will get one of the loveliest views we have about here," said Zan.

"Yes'm," assented Bill, "and there's where you kin spy th' farm, too."

"Then we must be almost there," ventured Miss Miller, whose seat on the loose spring board was anything but comfortable.

"No'm, not by four mile more. The gent what ust t' own th' farm afore th' doctor got it, ust t' say, 'Bill, this air th' longes' four mile I ever hope t' travel!'" and Bill chuckled to himself as the team strained at the haul up the steep road.

Long before the travellers reached the farm every one was stiff and glad enough to jump out of the wagon. But Bill warned them to wait yet a while longer—he had pictured to himself the grand manner in which he would sweep between the two stone posts and flourish his whip as the wagon rolled up to the front porch. To permit the girls to jump out prematurely, would spoil his pleasure.

Having accomplished his ambition, he stood by the horses and grinned while the visitors exclaimed at everything they saw.

"What a gem of an old house!" cried Miss Miller.

"And that grand old oak in front—just see how far its branches sweep over the lawn!" cried Jane.

"Look, girls! Look! The original 'old oaken bucket that hangs in the well!'" sang Hilda, as she saw Zan at the long sweep that worked the bucket.

"It surely is lovelier than anything I ever dreamed of," sighed Elena, her artistic sense, for once, gratified.

Groups of fruit trees, some squat and thick, some tall and slender, vied with elms, maples, oaks, and beech trees, in giving beauty and shade to the grounds about the house. Some distance back of the house stood a group of barns, sheds, and a tool-house. The grassy space between was laid out in a croquet ground and tennis courts. Directly back of the out-buildings was a fine kitchen garden and small-fruit bushes and vines. The narrow strips dividing the vegetable patches were a mass of blossoming old-fashioned perennials. The fragrance wafted from stocks, sweet-peas, petunias, pansies and other flowers, attracted bees and honey-birds of every species common in Jersey.

"Rickon you'se ain't sorry t' git 'ere?" laughed Bill.

"Indeed