Ernest set his lips together firmly and soon had the boat skimming along rapidly, though still rather jerkily, his strokes being more energetic than regular. The woods were already echoing with soft night noises, frogs croaked; the clicking notes of the katydids mingled with the whining of the wind through the boughs overhead. Part of the pool disappeared in the shadows; the rest broke into shimmering ripples with every stroke of the oars. "Oh, I love the night time!" exclaimed Chicken Little. "Seems as if everything in the world had done its day's work and was sitting down to talk it over--even the frogs. Don't you s'pose they're glad or sorry about things when night comes, just as we are?" Sherm looked at Chicken Little, who was leaning over the side of the boat, trailing her hand in the water. "Chicken Little, you work your imagination overtime--it will wear out if you aren't careful." She rewarded him with a grimace. "You are getting a much evener stroke, Ernest," observed the Captain. "I bet he's getting a blister on his hand, too," said Katy. "Yes, Ernest, you'd better let me have a turn." Sherm slid over to the rower's seat and reached his hand for the oars, which Ernest yielded reluctantly. Sherm had spent one summer near Lake Michigan and was a better oarsman than Ernest. The boat skimmed along smoothly. "Good for you, Sherm, you have a strong, even stroke," the Captain praised. Presently the girls began to sing, Ernest and Sherm joining in. Captain Clarke listened happily to the young voices until they struck up "Soft and Low over the Western Sea." They all loved it and were crooning it sweetly, but the Captain's face went white as they sang: "Father will come to his babe in the nest." "Don't!" he exclaimed involuntarily. They all looked at him in surprise. He regained his self-possession instantly, saying with a smile: "Go on--don't mind my twinge of rheumatism--I slept in a draught last night. That is one of the loveliest things Tennyson has ever written." The young people finished the song and began another, but they wondered. The spell of the evening was broken. Soon after, they started home. CHAPTER XI CALICO AND COMPANY Mrs. Morton passed the muffins for the fifth time to Ernest. Ernest's appetite for muffins was prodigious. Sherm was also ready for another. Chicken Little hadn't quite finished hers, but at the rate they were disappearing--she thought she'd better. Katy said: "Yes, thank you," and Gertie, who ate more slowly than the others, had only had one. Dr. Morton was merely waiting to be urged. Mrs. Morton rang the bell doubtfully. Annie had filled the plate three times already. Annie appeared with a questioning grin. "Shall I bring some bread, Ma'am? They ain't no more muffins." Dr. Morton laughed. "Our appetites do credit to your cooking, Annie." Mrs. Morton sighed, then smiled as she surveyed the rosy, tanned faces.