"Be off, the pair of you!" cried Mrs. Bunker. Burt took the oars again, laughing, while Glen flourished his cap, looking at Indiana, and Haller and William shouted sportsman’s jokes from the shore. "There they go," said Indiana, waving her handkerchief. She then sat down on the dock, watching the boat grow smaller and smaller. The strains of the mandolin floated to them over the water. "Indiana, you look as though you hadn’t a friend left. If I thought as much of a person as that, I wouldn’t let him out of my sight." "Well, Grandma Chazy, Glen’s my best friend." "And look at your mother! She’s actually crying." "Well, I hated to see him going off like that—I—I’m so fond of him." "Ma’s a good soul," cried Indiana, jumping up and throwing herself into Mrs. Stillwater’s arms. "Yes, she is." "Well, I am not disputing that, Indiana." "He was so set on going," said Mrs. Stillwater, holding Indiana to her. "I think it was because of those Englishmen. He don’t like strangers." "A pity about him," retorted Mrs. Bunker, sharply. "Does he want to monopolize Indiana altogether? He went because he might be of some use for once. He could have livened things up a little nights with his mandolin, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. Well, I’m just as well pleased. He might have been unmannerly or bearish." "Not Glen!" said Indiana. "Oh, _Glen_," repeated Mrs. Bunker, imitating her. Haller, who was washing out "The Indiana" and observing at the same time, gave vent to a long guffaw. Mrs. Bunker looked at him crossly. "I can’t bear that Haller," she said, as they climbed up to the camp. "He’s always making faces at me." "When you think he’s making faces, he’s only smiling, I tell you," said Indiana. "He’s a fine guide; what more do you want?" "Wear your red dress to-night, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, ignoring this last remark. "I think white is so much prettier for a young girl," suggested Mrs. Stillwater. "Yes, that’s the conventional thing," said Mrs. Bunker. "Well, let her look like a bread and butter miss—I have no objection." "I don’t want to look like a bread and butter miss," interrupted Indiana. "Wear what your mother wishes, Indiana." "Oh, I’m satisfied with anything," apologetically murmured Mrs. Stillwater. "Let the child please herself." She looked questioningly at her daughter. The latter, looking very self-important, declined to commit herself just then. "Take your finger out of your mouth, Indiana," said Mrs. Bunker, sharply. "It’s time you stopped that baby habit." Indiana, whenever she was making a decision of any kind, still put her finger in her mouth as a help to thought. Later, in her granddaughter’s room, Mrs. Bunker said in the voice of an oracle. "Take my advice and wear your red silk, Indiana." "He won’t think it’s loud?" asked Indiana.