The clergyman and his son pricked up their ears at this, photography being with them only a degree less absorbing a pastime than that of walking; Ron awoke suddenly to the remembrance that his half-plate camera had never been unpacked since his arrival; and the three vied with each other in asking questions about the proposed excursion, and in urging that a date should be fixed. Before the meal had come to a conclusion, plans were mapped out, and a division of labour made, by which one person was held responsible for the hiring of carriages, another for the promised food, while George Elgood was left to arrange the plan of campaign. "We are a happy family, we are, we are, we are!" hummed the Chieftain, under his breath, as he cast a twinkling glance across the table to where Margot sat, as demure to outward seeming as she was excited at heart. "Why do you avoid me?" he demanded of her plumply, the next morning, when, after several unsuccessful attempts, he ran her to earth by the side of the tarn. "Scurry out of my way like a frightened bunny whenever I come along. Won't do, you know! Not going to trouble myself to do you good turns, if you round on me afterwards, and avoid me as if I were the plague. What's it all about?" "Nothing," stammered Margot confusedly. "I only felt rather-- You _do_ tease, you know, and your eyes twinkle so mischievously that I felt that discretion was the better part of valour." "Well, don't do it again then, that's all, or I may turn rusty and upset the apple-cart. No reason that I know of why I should be ostracised, because I try to help my fellow-creatures. What are you doing over here? Reading? What a waste of time! Much better come and chuck stones into the lake with me." Margot's brown eyes widened in reproof. "Don't you like books?" "Hate the sight of 'em! Especially on a holiday. Never want to see as much as a line of print from the time I leave home to the time I return. Especially,"--his eyes twinkled in the mischievous manner to which exception had just been taken--"especially poetry! Don't mind my saying so, do you?" "Not a bit," returned Margot promptly, tossing her first stone into the lake with a vehemence which held more than a suspicion of temper. "Of course I never--one would never--_expect_ you to like it. It would be the last thing one would expect--" "Too fat?" She blushed at that, and had the grace to look a trifle distressed. "Oh, not that altogether. It's a `_Je ne sais quoi_,' don't you know. One could tell at a glance that you were not a literary man." The Chieftain chuckled, bent down to gather a handful of stones, and raised a red smiling face to hers.