“Why, in my little row-boat, to be sure. There, there it is, tied to that post,” answered the boy, pointing to a little skiff that was rocking on the water. “Oh-h-h! And you’ll take me in that? Oh-h-h! Won’t that be splendid! When will you take me, David Lindsay?” she exclaimed, with all a child’s eager delight in an anticipated holiday. “To-morrow, if they will let you go. To-night when I go home, I will tell my grandmother, and she will have something to please you when you come, you know.” “Will she? Oh, how nice. I am so glad I found you. Ain’t you glad you found me, David Lindsay?” “Oh, I tell you! Yes, indeed! I was so lonesome here.” “So was I! But we have found one another; we won’t be lonesome any more, will we? We will have such good times, won’t we now, David Lindsay?” “Ah!” exclaimed the boy. “But, oh, I say! See here! I can’t net any more. This hard twine hurts my fingers dreadfully,” said little Glo’, looking at her bruised digits. “I thought it would. Put it up. It is dinnertime, too.” “Yes, I suppose it is, and I must go home,” said the child, rising reluctantly. “Oh, no, please don’t,” eagerly exclaimed the boy. “Stay here and have some of my dinner.” “Dinner!” exclaimed little Glo’, looking all around them in vain search of a kitchen. “I have brought it with me in a basket,” David explained, as he lifted a little ragged flag-basket from its hiding-place beside the boat. “Sit down and have some.” “Oh, yes, thank you, so I will! I like that!” she answered, promptly reseating herself. He then opened his basket, and took from it, first, a coarse crash towel, which he handed to her, saying: “Now please to set the table.” “Set the table?” she echoed, in perplexity. “Yes, you know, spread that towel on the flat stone by you, and I will hand you out the things to put on it.” “Oh! yes, I know—and play we are housekeeping!” she exclaimed, delightedly, as she laid the cloth. Then he handed her, in succession, a little cracked, blue-edged white plate, a broken knife and fork, a little paper of salt, another of bread, six hard boiled eggs, and a dozen young radishes, all of which she arranged upon the “table” with funny little housewifely care. “Now, this will have to be broiled,” he continued, as he took from the bottom of the basket a smoked red herring on a cabbage leaf and laid it on the boat. “Broiled!” echoed the little housekeeper, as she looked all about in search of a fire. “Yes,” he answered, laughing, as he went and gathered up some dry, decayed driftwood, and broke it into small chips, and piled it up on some stones. Then he took a tinder box, flint and steel, from his pocket, struck a light, and kindled a fire. “Oh! that is grand!” exclaimed the delighted child, as she watched him, for all this was play to her. When the fire had burned down to coals he laid the herring on it. A fine appetizing flavor soon arose.