Medora asked Carolyn to do what she could toward constructing a lunch and then walked down to the shore with Cope to compose her nerves. No stroll today along the ridged amphitheatre of the hills, whence the long, low range of buildings, under that tall chimney, was so plainly in view. Still less relishing the idea of a tramp through the woods themselves, the certain haunt--somewhere--of some skulking desperado. No, they would take the shore itself--open to the wide firmament, clear of all snares, and free from every disconcerting sight. "Poor Carolyn!" said Medora presently. "How fluttered and inefficient she was! A good secretary--in a routine way--but so lacking in initiative and self-possession!" Cope's look tended to become a stare. He thought that Carolyn had been in pretty fair control of herself,--had been less fluttery and excited, indeed, than her employer. But Medora had been piqued, the night before, by Carolyn's tendency to linger on the scene and to help skim the emotional cream from the situation. "And in such dishabille, too! I hope you don't think she seemed immodest?" But Cope had given small heed to their dress, or to their lack of it. In fact, he had noticed little if any difference between them. He only knew that he had felt a degree more comfortable after getting his own coat on. "Carolyn understands her place pretty well," mused Medora. "Yet..." "Anybody might be excused for looking anyhow, at such a time," observed Cope, fending off the intrusion of a new set of considerations; "and in such a sudden stir. I hope nobody noticed how I looked!" "Well, you were noticeable," declared Medora, with some archness. She had been conscious enough of his spare waist, his sinewy arms, his swelling chest. "It was easy enough to see where the noise came from," she said, looking him over. "Yes, I supplied the noise--and that only. It was Peter, please remember, who supplied the muscle." She declined to let her mind dwell on Peter. Peter possessed no charm. Besides, he was prosaically on the payroll. They continued to saunter along the sand. Yesterday's sparse clouds had vanished, along with much of yesterday's wind. The waters that had tumbled and vociferated now merely murmured. The lake stood calmly blue, and the new green was thickening on the hills. Confident birds flitted busily among the trees and shrubs. Spring was disclosed in its most alluring mood. Suddenly three or four figures appeared on the beach, a quarter of a mile away. They had descended through one of the sandy and ravaged channelings which broke at intervals the regulated rim of the hills, and they came on toward our two strollers. Medora closed her eyes to peer at them. "Are they marching a prisoner?" she asked. "They all appear to be walking free." "Are they carrying knapsacks?" "Khaki, puttees,--and knapsacks, I think."