“And, of course,” Jasper continued, “we’ll have to make the agreement for a certain length of time—two hours, say. Will that do? Very well,”—looking at his watch,—“it is distinctly understood then that from this moment—it is now half-past eleven—for two whole hours we shall _sing_ everything we have to say, every one to the tune agreed on, and that we shall pay the sum of ten cents for every violation of this rule,—with the exception of Freddy, who is to pay five cents.—Each, upon honor, agrees to this solemn compact.” He looked about, and all gravely nodded assent. “All right,” said Jasper. Then, to the familiar strains of “Auld Acquaintance,” without the slightest hesitation he sang these lines, giving his words the proper rhyme and rhythm almost unconsciously: “My gallant boys (or rather, girls), Take now your oars and row; For, if you don’t, ’tis very clear This boat will never go.” Four young people, full of frolic, found it easy to laugh at this, as well as at a number of similar outbursts on the part of the others, equally ridiculous if somewhat less elaborate. And the fun went on for some minutes. Nevertheless, it must be confessed that Miss Kitty’s plan, promising as it had seemed, did not turn out quite so well as she had expected. Admirably adapted, as no doubt it was, to a picnic party, where all sorts of people would be constantly moved to say all sorts of things, it was found not to work at all well among four persons of about the same age, in an open boat, where there was no especial necessity for saying anything. Somehow or other, after a little, the singing began to grow less funny, and presently everybody appeared to have discovered that it was easier to keep still than to express one’s self, and so a grim silence fell upon the boat. Freddy played with the water alongside; the girls bent to their oars; and Jasper attended to his steering. And, bound as they were by their absurd agreement, it is to be feared that the crew of the gig would have had a dreary time of it for the next two hours, but for an idea that suddenly suggested itself to Jasper’s fertile mind. All at once the coxswain gave the helm a turn; and then the boat’s keel was heard grating softly upon the sand. The others looked around in surprise. The boat was close inshore, and the next moment it brought up with a gentle bump against the bank. A short distance away a railroad crossing could be seen, and, just beyond it, a red house. Jasper rose to his feet, and sang: “Now, what say you, my gallant crew, To going with me ashore? Methinks ’twould be a goodly thing To tread the land once more.” “I’m ready, for one,” cried Freddy, jumping ashore at once, painter in hand. “Ahem!” uttered Jasper loudly.