It seemed as if no supper had ever tasted as that supper did.

The free mountain air was so fresh and strong, and the breath of the pines so sweet.

It was so pleasant to sit on the moss around a fire, and eat with your fingers if you chose, without shocking anybody.

Then the woods looked so wide and lonely and still, and it was so strange to watch the great red sunset dying like a fire through the thick green net-work, where the pine-boughs and the maple interlaced.
For about five minutes after supper was cleared away, when the great shadows began to darken among the trees, Sarah discoursed in a vague, scientific way, about the habits of bears, and Gypsy had a dim notion that she shouldn't so very much object to see her mother come walking up the mountain, seized with an uncontrollable desire to spend a night in a tent.
But Tom was so pleasant and merry, and Mr.Hallam told such funny stories, that they were laughing before they knew it, and the evening passed happily away.
Gypsy could not sleep for some time that night, for delight at spending a night out doors in a real tent on a real mountain, that was known to have an occasional real bear on it.

She did not feel afraid in the least, although Sarah had a very uncomfortable way of asking her, every ten minutes, if she were perfectly _sure_ it was safe.
"Oh, don't!" said Gypsy, at last.