"That’s very good of you, Miss Stillwater." He lit his cigar leisurely, then leaned back with a long sigh of content. "You’re a splendid oarswoman, Miss Stillwater; such long, graceful strokes. That splash of color here and there in the woods—it’s most effective—especially, when it’s reflected in the lake—like this branch—look—we are just nearing it—how gracefully it droops over the water. It’s most delightful here—near the shore—let us linger a little while—do you mind? There’s no occasion for this terrific speed, is there? That’s better—now we are merely gliding. Lean back, Miss Stillwater! Won’t you have this pillow? Are you quite comfortable? Are you sure you are quite comfortable? These Adirondack oars are very convenient—just let them swing—I see—and take them up when you are ready. A stroke or two, now and then, will be quite sufficient to send us along—not yet—don’t disturb yourself. No, we will not run into anything—I’ll see to that—you look very nice lying there. The water is like a perfect mirror here, under the trees—every leaf and twig is reflected—beautiful—so restful—I could drift like this—" "I thought so," cried Indiana jumping up. "Dear me, what is the matter?" "We’re caught in a tree!" "Why so we are—be careful—that branch will strike your face—I think I can reach it—a most obstinate branch—it persists in bending your way. Well, I can’t blame it—there—how ever did this occur?" "Why—you insisted on my leaving everything to you—I yielded from pure amiability—but I foresaw what would happen, because you hadn’t the slightest idea where you were drifting." "But I know quite well, where I’m drifting—" "Then how were we caught in this tree?" "Ah, that’s another story—" "You were certainly not looking ahead." "Then where was I looking? You ought to know." "You were lying back with your hands clasped behind your head, saying, ’I could go on like this forever,’ or something to that effect, and we went plump into the tree." "Poor Miss Stillwater—I’m a great trial—you’ll never take me out again, will you?" "Well, I won’t say that—" "I’m so glad you didn’t. I think it’s rather a novel sensation to be caught in a tree." "Everything is a sensation to you, Lord Canning." "Ha, ha, ha, ha. When you are my age, Miss Stillwater, you will also appreciate a new sensation. May I ask the object of those violent efforts?" "Lord Canning—do you realize you’re on the tree as well as in it. There’s an immense branch extending under the water, and with our combined weight we won’t get off in a hurry." "Where is the hurry—there are no trains to be caught, I believe." "Yes, but I wanted to show you the lake this morning—that would be something. There is so much for you to do and see."