"I’d like to write to the Smiths," said Mrs. Bunker, one morning. "I promised to invite them up here. But you’re so half-hearted about it, Indiana. All you care for is to roam about with Glen." She was standing on the balcony of the boat-house, and did not see Glen below on the dock. He smiled grimly. "I can’t blame her for one, Mrs. Bunker," he called up, good humoredly. Indiana laughed. She was sitting in a boat. After having assumed several positions in order to ship water, she was now very busy bailing it out with a large sponge. "No offense, Glen," said Mrs. Bunker. "None whatever," returned Glen, emerging, and bowing elaborately. "The two of you are like a couple of Indians," she continued. "Here’s Haller with the mail," cried Indiana. He rowed swiftly towards them in a light, narrow guide-boat. Indiana took the letters. "I brought a letter for yer," shouted Haller to Mrs. Bunker. "Then why didn’t you deliver it?" answered Mrs. Bunker sharply. "_She_ tuk it," he answered, chuckling. Indiana stood up in the boat, balancing herself admirably, and flung the letter to Mrs. Bunker, then sat down examining the other letters and papers in her lap. "Nothing for you, Glen." He overturned a boat and seated himself upon it, smoking a pipe. Naturally dark, he was burnt several shades darker, from his hair to the loose, open collar of his flannel shirt. "You’re sitting right in the water, Indiana. Your feet must be soaking wet. Your mother ought to see you." Indiana looked at him with a laugh. He remembered her blue eyes had given him that same arch glance as a child, when he had discovered her in some act of mischief. "You always liked to put your feet in the puddles," he said. "Yes, I always had a passion for puddles. As Grandma Chazy would say, ’it’ll bode me no good, some day.’" "It’s from Lord Stafford," cried Mrs. Bunker. "Indeed!" said Indiana, affecting an English accent. "They’ll be with us in a few days, Indiana." "Charmed!" said Indiana, standing up in the boat, and screwing up her face in imitation of Lord Stafford with his monocle. Glen laughed heartily at the expense of Mrs. Bunker’s English friends. "That’s great, Indiana." "You little rogue," cried Mrs. Bunker, "I won’t have you ridicule my friends. Oh, I’m so delighted. You’ll find them lovely company." "Ya—a—as," drawled Indiana, with a bored expression, "delighted, I’m—" the rest was finished in the water, the boat capsizing suddenly. Indiana was near enough to the dock to throw out an arm to Glen, and he drew her up laughing, but drenched. "I knew you’d do it, Indiana," cried Mrs. Bunker. Indiana, still clinging to Glen, as the dock was slippery, smiled faintly, putting her hand to her side. "You didn’t hurt yourself, did you, Indiana?" said Glen, anxiously. "I twisted my side a little—I wanted to save myself, as I fell—that’s all." "What did she do, Glen?" called Mrs. Bunker. Glen lifted her up in his arms, and carried her up to the camp.