The little steamboat was now making but one trip a day. The young man who all summer had run a jitney, now had departed for larger fields, so those who wished to reach the wharf must “foot it,” as Cap’n Belah said. The sun had not been up very long when the party from “Spindrift” cottage started down the road, Reed and Tom carrying bags and suit-cases, and Beulah lumbering along in the rear, weighted down with bundles. As most of the summer visitors had left, there were but few to wave farewell as the little boat steamed off. “But we’ll all come back next summer, won’t we?” said Mabel brightly as they turned a point which hid the island from view. “I shall if I have to swim,” responded Tom. “And I, too, if I have to walk,” Reed avowed. “And I, if I have to hire an aëroplane,” Ellen said laughing. “We can count on you, can’t we, Miss Rindy?” Mabel asked. “I make no rash promises,” was the answer. “Who knows where we all may be another summer?” This somewhat subdued the exuberance and confidence of the young people, and they began to chatter and make plans for the day which they would spend in Portland before taking the night train. The two young men had arranged to go as far as New York with their friends, and Mabel had decided to spend a few days there with her aunt. She tried to dissuade Ellen from going on to Marshville with her cousin. “I don’t see why both of you can’t stop off for a little while,” she urged. “And what would we do with Beulah?” “Make a bale of her and send her by freight,” suggested Reed; “ship her as dry-goods, or, better still, as foodstuff, marked perishable.” “Food-stuffed, you’d better say,” remarked Ellen, looking over toward the corner where Beulah, having partaken of an insufficient breakfast, was munching such left-overs as she had been able to stow away in a capacious pocket. Even Miss Rindy laughed, but agreed with Ellen that the problem of how to dispose of Beulah in New York would be too intricate to be considered. “If she adds much more to her weight, they will be charging us double fare,” she remarked. “I think she must have gained twenty pounds.” So on they went to Marshville, Ellen expecting to join Mabel in New York when the joint exhibition of pictures should take place. Reed was to look after this, and Ellen knew he could be depended upon. Therefore the next day saw them back at home, and soon everything was going on as before, and the summer was remembered as a lovely dream.