Some one was sitting on the same flat rock, and I climbed up to the place with more haste than grace, I imagine.

When I reached the top, panting like the purr of the _Yellow Peril_--my automobile--when it gets warmed up and going smoothly, I discovered that it was Edith Loroman sitting placidly, with a camera on her knees, doing things to the internal organs of the thing.

I don't know much about cameras, so I can't be more explicit.
"If it isn't Ellie, looking for all the world like the _Virginian_ just stepped down from behind the footlights!" was her greeting.

"Where in the world have you been, that you haven't been over to see us ?" "You must know that the palace of the King is closed against the Carletons," I, said, and I'm afraid I said it a bit crossly; I hadn't climbed that unmerciful butte just to bandy commonplaces with Edith Loroman, even if we were old friends.

There are times when new enemies are more diverting than the oldest of old friends.
"Well, you could come when Uncle Homer is away--which he often is," she pouted.