“Oh, the deer! Look at the deer!” sped from mouth to mouth. “What a sermon to men-folks!” exclaimed Betsy. “The way the critters act in this Park is a wonder, just because men’s savage instincts are restrained.” “Yes,” said Rosalie. “I’ve been saying to myself over and over Emerson’s poem,— ‘Who hath named the birds without a gun?’” Betsy regarded her with the one-sided smile. “Still speak poetry, do you, even though you do bring folks their soup?” “Oh, yes.” Rosalie gave her head a sad little shake. “When I stop thinking and feeling poetry, I shall have stopped breathing.” Everybody was commenting on the curious action of the beautiful wild creature in the forest, Robert declaring that he had buck fever. When the excitement had subsided, he leaned forward to Irving’s ear. “Your faithful retainer has found her tongue,” he said. “She and Uncle Henry’s Hebe are talking thirteen to the dozen.” “Has Mr. Derwent a Hebe on board?” “Yes. A genius who has brought him good coffee for two meals. Watch him head for her table this noon; and she’s unnecessarily pretty.” Upon this Irving turned around and caught Betsy’s eye; then a glimpse of the blond young girl who was her companion. “Glad she’s having a good time,” he said, turning back. Then to Mrs. Bruce, “Betsy has made friends with a pretty waitress back there.” “Oh, we still have the domestics, the heavers, with us, have we?” laughed Mrs. Bruce. “Is that what they call them!” exclaimed Robert alertly, but continuing to speak softly. “Didn’t you see the other one we had this morning? The spearmint expert? Alas, she is no more; but if this one had stayed, I can tell you Uncle Henry would have stayed too.” “O Robert!” exclaimed Mrs. Nixon, anxious to make a diversion, “could you get me some of that very peculiar red flower?” The stage was climbing a gentle incline and Robert swung himself out and gathered the blossoms. “Want some?” asked Irving of his companion. Mrs. Bruce certainly did, and Irving accordingly jumped out, also. She turned to Mrs. Nixon, smiling. “We’re pretty fortunate women,” she said. Mrs. Nixon sighed. “Robert is such a scatterbrain,” she returned. Mrs. Bruce continued her glance around, curious to see the waitress who had been the subject of remark. She saw a fair young girl wearing a veil; but her near-sighted glance awakened no memory. “I’m glad,” she thought, “that Betsy has some one to talk to.” CHAPTER IX THE FOUNTAIN HOUSE IT was late and cold when the party reached the Fountain House, and the big open fire burning in the office was a welcome sight. Robert Nixon’s prophecy was fulfilled, and Mr. Derwent managed to be waited upon by Rosalie at supper. The Bruce party happened to sit with their backs to that table, and indeed Betsy did not expect either of her companions to recognize the girl in this place and position so remote from the spot where they had known her but slightly.