“We’ll certainly have some story to tell.”

   “I want something to eat first.”

   “Yes, and dry clothes, too.”

   “What a queer hut and what a queer man!”

   “I’ve heard of people being lost before,” said Billie, as they ran up the steps that led to the handsomest

   door in the world, or at least so they thought it at that moment. “But now I know that what they said about it wasn’t half bad enough.”

   “But not every one finds a hut and a funny man when they get lost,” said Vi.

   “Well, you needn’t be so conceited about it,” said Laura, pausing with her hand on the door knob. “The girls probably won’t believe us when we tell them.”

   But Laura was wrong. The girls did really believe the story of Hugo Billings and the hut and became tremendously excited about it. At first they were all for making up an expedition and going to see it—the only drawback being that the chums could not have directed them to it if they would.

   And they would not have wished to, anyway. They had rather good reason to believe that Hugo Billings would not want a lot of curious girls spying about his quarters, and, being sorry for him and grateful to him for helping them out of their fix, they absolutely refused to have anything to do with the idea.

   They were greeted with open arms on the night of their return. Miss Walters, the much-beloved head of Three Towers Hall, said that she had been just about to send out a searching party for them.

   They were late for supper, but that only made their appetites better, and as they were favorites of the cook they were given an extra share of

   everything and ate ravenously, impatient of the questions flung at them by the curious girls.

   “Thank goodness the Dill Pickles aren’t here,” Laura said to Billie between mouthfuls of pork chop. “Think of coming home with

    our

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