The boys remained at the school two days, during which time they went to all their old haunts, played a good deal of tennis, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time of it. They spent an afternoon on Harry’s Island, which lay in the river just above the school, and talked over the fun they had had the summer before while camping out there. The island had been a birthday present to Harry from her father, and she was very proud of it. “When I get through college,” she declared, “I’m going to build a house here and live in it all my days. Won’t that be jolly?” “Pshaw,” said Dick, “you’ll get married and maybe live a thousand miles from here.” “I shan’t,” answered Harry, seriously. “I’ve decided not to be married, ever. I told Aunt Harriet so the other day and she said I was very sensible.” They visited Harry’s menagerie in the barn and renewed acquaintances with Methuselah, the parrot, several Angora cats and kittens, squirrels, guinea-pigs, rabbits, white mice and pigeons. [Snip, Harry’s fox-terrier had long since welcomed them.] Methuselah looked not a whit different from what he did when they had last seen him, and, although it is doubtful if he remembered even Dick, he acted quite cordially and nipped Roy’s finger in quite an intimate manner. “Do you think,” asked Harry, anxiously, “that Snip would be in the way on the boat?” “Of course not,” answered Chub. “We’re going to take him along, aren’t we, Snip?” And Snip wagged his stump of a tail in enthusiastic affirmation. They were to leave in the morning, and Harry spent most of that afternoon in the kitchen making pies and doughnuts, Mrs. Emery assisting. Chub, being missed from the tennis court, was discovered sitting on the kitchen doorsteps sampling the baking. “How many has he had, Mrs. Emery?” Roy demanded. “Only one or two, haven’t I, Mrs. Emery?” cried Chub. “Well, not very many,” responded that lady smilingly. “Chub Eaton, you’ve had four to my certain knowledge!” exclaimed Harry, who, with a blue-checked apron tied under her chin and very flushed cheeks, was superintending the frying of a new batch of doughnuts. “Then you’ve had quite enough,” said Roy firmly. “And it’s back to tennis court for you, Chub.” However, they postponed the carrying out of the verdict long enough to do some sampling themselves. “They’re perfect,” was Dick’s verdict, “but I miss the almond flavor, Harry.” Whereupon Harry grew very much redder and it was discovered that her mother had never learned of her experiment in adding almond extract to the doughnut recipe the summer before. So Chub told about it and Harry declared that he was too mean for words and shouldn’t have another bite of anything.