"Oh, but he promised!" the boy exclaimed, with a face suddenly full of miserable disappointment. George forced a smile. "There, Harold, don't sulk! You know I don't like that. I'll make you a few now--a whole lot tomorrow." "Thanks!" he cried boisterously, throwing his cap in the air, and then turning to run back to his precious find. They were all soon seated in a circle, George busy whittling. Alma realized it was the last thing he wished to do. She had witnessed a display of feeling from him that she never guessed his calm nature capable of. "His friendship for Edith must indeed be very strong," she thought. She was sure he was placing his feelings under constraint at the present time. Perhaps he would like to be alone with Edith to study her, and judge for himself just how far her troubles were influencing her health. "Harold," she exclaimed suddenly, "wouldn't you like Mus to show you some lovely deer?" "Where?" asked Harold, quickly. "O, Mus can show you," she answered, nodding her head mysteriously. "Cousin George can take Mrs. Hester out on the lake in the meantime. Then when we have seen the lovely deer, we'll follow them in another boat, and see if you can row as well as Cousin George." "Whew!" returned Harold, with a low whistle, more expressive than words. George looked up, gratefully to Alma. "Would you like to go, Edith," he said quietly. "Yes, indeed," replied Edith, with a thrill of genuine pleasure. "Hurry, boy, away with the whips. Hide them safely, sir, until tomorrow." Harold was only too ready to obey, and in ten minutes the little group was divided. Silently, Edith walked by George's side, down to the lake. George noticed her embarrassment, and talked of the place and surroundings. Once seated in the cushioned stern of the boat, Edith gave herself up to this pleasure with a dreamy joy, overcoming her lonely strivings. For a few minutes, only the light splash of the oars broke the silence. When they had almost lost the house from view, George looked around upon the big expanse of water. "This is your first outing on the lake?" he asked gently. "Yes, my first. It is delightful," she replied softly. "Then you cannot direct me which way to row," he asked. "That little bend," she answered, nodding her head toward an outlet a hundred feet in advance, "leads to the next lake. There is a perfect chain of six lakes, six miles in all, and each as beautiful as this one, so they say." "Not dangerous in a storm?" asked George, watching carefully a few approaching clouds. "They say not, except in case of a wind storm. Then the lakes shut in by the hills, get the full force of the wind. That is a rare occasion, though." Thus ordinary conversation put them more at ease. On they conversed, and on they rowed, passed the first three lakes, disguising from one another the keen delight each one felt, at this drifting alone together through the calm stillness of nature.