"One of those New Zealand adventures you used to tell to Peter and Dorothy.

They loved them." "Yes, yes! A camp-fire story.

That would be spiffing!" clamoured the girls.

"Sit on the floor, near the fire, and we'll all squat near you.
We haven't had a story for ages and ages!" "Tell it just as you did at home," urged Ulyth.
"I'll try my best," sighed Rona, taking a small stool near the fire, so as to be slightly above the audience clustered round the hearthrug.
"It happened about a year ago," she began; "that's summer-time in New Zealand, you know, because the seasons are just opposite.

It was Pamela Higson's birthday, and I'd been asked to go over for the day.