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“Where do we have our lunch?—O, yes, of course, in the little summer house they made on purpose. Say, Eloise, wouldn’t it be fun to snap the farmer when he wasn’t looking? Where is he?” Betty was looking all around to find the new farmer of whom she had had a glimpse as they went up to the wood. “He’s such a straight, fine-looking man that he would make a good picture for our memory books, if we could get him with a good background of the woods and lake, or the vineyard, or some of the pretty surroundings here.”

“He doesn’t look as if hard work had broken him down, does he?” said Diane.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Betty. “I tell you, some of you girls stop and talk to him, and I’ll get behind some bushes or something and watch for a good chance to snap him. There he is now, bringing out that handsome black horse from the barn. Come on.”

The black horse was restive, and Betty, hurrying on, caught an excellent picture of both horse and man, while the farmer was too busy with the horse to observe anything else. When he did observe her and her camera he took pains to keep his face turned away.