"Did ye think we'd passed out up there?" came a gruff girl's voice behind him, interrupted by a giggle. He smelt perfume. Then he was on his feet, blushing. They were shaking hands with Cham. One had curly brown hair and a doll's pink organdy dress and showed her teeth, even as the grains on an ear of sweet corn, in a continual smile. The other had a thin face and tow hair and wore the same dress in blue. "I was coming up to help," shouted Cham. "Ou, what's that?" "It's a present." The blue dress hovered over the lunch basket. "A case of Scotch!" They all shrieked with laughter. "That's our eats," said Cham solemnly. "And this is Mr.----?" "Beg pardon, this is my friend, Mr. Macdougan ... answers to the name of Fanshaw." Fanshaw shook their hands that they held up very high. "This is Miss Phoebe Sweeting and this is Miss Elise Montmorency." "We'll never be able to eat all that," said the blue girl tittering. "We'll drink some of it," said Cham. "There's some Champagny water." "My Gawd!" "You carry it now, Fanshaw," said Cham in a hurried undertone, and pushed the pink girl out in front of him through the revolving door. Fanshaw picked up the basket. It was heavy and rattled. "O, I just do love canoeing," said the blue girl as they followed. "Don't you?" * * * * They stood on the landing at Norumbega. A man in a seedy red sweater torn at the elbows was bringing a canoe out of the boathouse. A cool weedy smell teasing to the nostrils came up out of the river. "Ou, isn't it deep?" said Elise, pressing her fluffy dress against Fanshaw's leg. "Stop it, I tell you ... You'll push me in the water ... Ow!" Cham was brandishing a bullrush at the pink girl, tickling her with it. She was protesting in a gruff baby lisp full of titters. "If you spoil my dress ..." "I'm sure you paddle beautifully ... D'you mind if I call you Fanshaw ... It's a funny name like a stage name. Look at them!" Phoebe had snatched the bullrush and was beating Cham over the head. The brown fluff fell about them bright in the streaming sunlight. Fanshaw found himself picking up Cham's straw hat, palping a dent in the rim with his finger. Cham's hair shone yellow; he grabbed the pink girl's hand. The bullrush broke off and the head fell into the river, floated in the middle of brown bright rings. "Ow, damn it, you hurt," she cried shrilly. "There now, you made me say damn." "Momma kiss it an' make it well." Fanshaw found the blue girl's grey glance wriggling into his eyes. "Silly, ain't they? Kids, are they not?" The ain't stung in Fanshaw's ears. The girl was common. The thought made him blush. "Come along, let's get started. Man the boats," cried Cham. "I'm scared o' canoes. You can paddle all right, can't you, Fanshaw?" The blue girl pressed his hand tight as they stood irresolute a moment looking down into the canoe. The other canoe was off, upstream into the noon dazzle.