Constance was deeply interested in his information, and the description of what seemed to her a possible discovery of importance. She made him repeat the details as nearly as he could recollect, and with the book attempted to classify the species. Her failure to do so only stimulated her enthusiasm. "I suppose you could find the place, again," she said. "Easily. It is only a few steps from the tripod at the peak," and he drew with his pencil a plan of the spot. "I've heard the McIntyre trail is not difficult to keep," Constance reflected. "No--provided, of course, one does not get into a fog. It's harder then. I lost the trail myself up there once in a thick mist." The girl turned to Frank, who was lounging comfortably on the steps, idly smoking. "Suppose we try it this afternoon," she said. Mr. Weatherby lifted his eyes to where Algonquin lay--its peaks among the clouds. "It looks pretty foggy up there--besides, it will be rather late starting for a climb like that." Miss Deane seemed a bit annoyed. "Yes," she said, rather crossly, "it will always be too foggy, or too late, or too early for you. Do you know," she added, to the company at large, "this young man hasn't offered to climb a mountain, or to go trouting, once since he's been here. I don't believe he means to, all summer. He said the other day that mountains and streams were made for scenery--not to climb and fish in." The company discussed this point. Miss Carroway told of a hill near Haverford which she used to climb, as a girl. Frank merely smiled good-naturedly. "I did my climbing and fishing up here when I was a boy," he said. "I think the fish are smaller now----" "And the mountains taller--poor, decrepit old man!" "Well, I confess the trails do look steeper," assented Frank, mildly; "besides, with the varied bill of fare we have been enjoying these days, I don't like to get too far from Mrs. Deane's medicine chest. I should not like to be seized with the last agonies on top of a high mountain." Miss Deane assumed a lofty and offended air. "Never you mind," she declared; "when I want to scale a high mountain I shall engage Mr. Robin Farnham to accompany me. Can you take me this afternoon?" she added, addressing Robin. The young man started to reply, reddened a little and hesitated. Edith, still lingering, holding fast to the veranda rail, suddenly spoke. "He can go quite well," she said, and there was a queer inflection in her voice. "There is no reason----" But Constance had suddenly arisen and turned to her. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" she pleaded hastily. "He has an engagement with you, of course. I did not think--I can climb McIntyre any time. Besides, Mr. Weatherby is right. It is cloudy up there, and we would be late starting."