The Island Camp
other side of the water. In an instant their castle of hopes was in bits, and their holiday seemed spoilt.  "If I wasn't a Scout I'd feel inclined to—jolly well——!"  Peter vented his feelings in kicking up a huge clod of turf as he stepped ashore. 

 "And if I wasn't a Guide, I'd——" Jan's voice sounded pretty near to tears. 

 "No cousins—or as bad as none; perhaps worse, for Mother'll be worked to death," continued Peter; "all our ripping preparations spoilt! No camp——!" 

 "Steady on!" called Robin; he could have grumbled a bit himself, easily enough, but he wasn't going to. He had been thinking hard instead, and he broke out suddenly: "I've got an idea. No, I won't say what it is till I know if it's needed. Don't give up hopes of the camp yet, and let's go meanwhile and ask Brownie about tea." 

 The gardener's house, to which they turned their steps rather dejectedly, was a very old stone cottage, as old as the Chase itself. It had been used for generations as the home of one or other of the keepers, having been built in a convenient place, so it was said, for the operations of possible river-poachers to be watched. Old Brown the gardener, though he had been in the service of the family all his life, had only lived in the cottage for about fifteen years. With the fall of the family fortunes the outdoor as well as the indoor staff of the Chase had been reduced, and at present he was a regular handy-man, the only man, indeed, about the place. His wife welcomed the three comfortably enough; and under the soothing influence of Brownie's scones and home-made jam their spirits began to rise. By the time the "third cup" stage was reached they were able at last to unburden themselves to their kind-hearted listener. 

 "We'd expected such lots of fun when the Lennoxes came," said Peter. 

 "Sure, my dear," said Brownie, nodding commiseratingly. 

 "They're sure to be jolly, you see, being relations!" said Jan ingenuously; "and besides"—heedless of a warning touch from Robin, who didn't believe in talking over family matters, she went on confidingly—"we somehow hoped they might know what the mystery is. You know, Brownie, at least, but I don't suppose you've ever thought about it——" 

 "Have you?" asked Peter suddenly, as the old woman did not answer, but rose busily to poke the fire. 

 "Sure, my dear, and having been in service at the 
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