“You don’t go sailing up your way much, do you, Miss Kendall?” Becky said. “We all down here go about on the water as much as we do on the land.” “We don’t have to,” Rhoda returned, a trifle defiantly. She was on the defensive since her late talk with James. She had scarcely spoken to the young man since they had started from home, but had managed to seat herself near Patsey and Joe. “No, they don’t have to up there,” spoke up James. “They have good roads, and go straight at a thing instead of driving over roundabout ways for miles to a place not a mile off, as we have to do. I tell you that is a fine harbor they have there at Boston, Miss Rhoda! Ever been there, Becky?” “No, you know I haven’t!” she returned with some vexation. “And it’s a beautiful coast,” James went on; “rocky, you know; not sandy like ours. It certainly seems right pretty after our level country, where we go miles on a stretch without so much as one little hill to break the monotony.” Becky was silenced for the time, but she had shafts in reserve. She resented the presence of this fair-haired Northern girl. What business had she down there usurping Becky’s own right to an admirer? Lettice watched the manœuvres of Miss Becky with sly glances at Patsey. Lettice herself was entirely heart-free. She was too young to be greatly troubled by affairs of sentiment, although she had twice imagined herself violently in love; once with a young gentleman who had passed an evening at her uncle’s, and who had made himself particularly agreeable to her; even now she liked to think about him, wondering if she should ever see him again. He was from New York, she remembered, and she became so absorbed in her recollections of him, that she did not notice the youthful cavalier who stood waiting to help her ashore. “Lettice is going to stay where she is,” laughed Becky; “she doesn’t care to dance, you know, nor does she care for supper.” “Don’t I?” cried Lettice, on her feet at once. “I do care. Your hand, Birk, and I’ll be ashore before any one;” which indeed she was, and stood laughing to greet the others as each made the landing. A supper of oysters, crabs, biscuits, and such-like Maryland dainties, was eaten merrily enough. Rhoda was a little reserved, but chatted pleasantly with Patsey, Joe, and the one or two whom she knew; Lettice was full of fun, and was as sportive as a kitten, ready to go crabbing, or to row out into the creek whose waters reflected a gorgeous sunset sky, to tease her Cousin Joe, or her Brother James, till finally she dropped down on the sands in quite a thoughtful mood, listening to Becky’s lazy voice as she inquired of Rhoda, “Do you go fox-hunting, Miss Kendall?” “No, I do not,” was the reply. “I ride sometimes, but we are not much given to the chase.” “Oh!” Becky lifted her eyebrows. “It’s very exciting, and we all think it’s great fun. Shall you stay long enough to go this fall when the season begins?”