His Youngest Daughter

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"S'cuse me," came a man's voice suddenly from behind her.

Karol Carson gave a start and furiously buttoned up the front of her blouse as she turned around. It was a very hot day in the park and she had been working around camp with the thing carelessly flapping in the breeze. A crimson flush suffused her face as she whirled to face the man, her fingers barely managing to fasten the last button in time.

"Didn't mean to scare you," he apologized. She saw his eyes veer away from the top of her blouse where a bit of her firm cleavage was still visible. He pretended not to notice what her fingers had been doing only moments before.

"Name's Jim," he said, smiling generously. "The wife and I have been noticing your camper parked here for the last couple of days and been meaning to stop by and say hello. Ours is the little blue and white job parked down by the bridge. Maybe you've noticed it on your way past."

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