"That's a bargain. Whoever lives there doesn't want to be bothered, for you can't see the house at all except from the shore; and in Summer, when the canoes are passing, it must be pretty well hidden by the saplings and the undergrowth on the ledge in front of it. There's just one place there where anybody can get down--a steep little path, worn smooth." "You saw a great deal in a few minutes, didn't you?" asked Robert, admiringly. "Of course," she answered, with a toss of her head. "A woman can see more in one minute than a man can see in sixty--didn't you know that?" "I didn't, but I do now." Silver-winged gulls glistened in the sun for a moment, then plunged into the cool softness below. A rabbit track wound a leisurely way across the sand and disappeared at the bluff. Down a ravine came a tiny stream, murmuring sleepily all along its way to the lake. Beatrice sighed and her eyes drooped. "Take me home," she said. The blue of the water grew deeper, then changed to grey. The white clouds turned to rose and gold, touched with royal purple, and the wings of the gulls no longer shone. A bluejay with slow-beating wings sank to his nest in a lofty maple, and, somewhere, a robin chirped mournfully, as if he, too, were tired. At last they came to the edge of the woods and saw the house, with the four tall poplars at the gate, the shimmering gold of sunset upon the river, and the Fort beyond. The exquisite peace of the woods had been like that of another sphere. There was a twittering of little birds in swaying nests, a sudden chill, a shadow, and a mist. The fairy patter was hurried and hushed, the rustling leaves were quiet, and she leaned wearily upon his arm. "Tired?" he asked tenderly. "Yes," she answered, smiling back at him, "but happy. Thank you for a perfect day." CHAPTER XI A JUNE DAY On a warm morning in June, Beatrice took her despised sewing under an unwilling arm and went over to Mrs. Howard's. Mrs. Franklin was there also, and they all sat on the porch, under the impression that it was cooler there than indoors. "I wish you girls would show me how this goes," pleaded Beatrice. She was making herself a gown of pink calico, and encountering new difficulties at every turn. "Where's your pattern," asked Katherine. "I haven't any map," returned Beatrice; "I lost it. I sawed this out by an old one." "It looks as if it had been sawed," laughed Mrs. Franklin. "Why didn't you ask Mrs. Mackenzie to help you cut it?" "Because I didn't want Aunt Eleanor to be ashamed of me." "She doesn't mind us," put in Katherine. "Stop teasing," commanded Beatrice, "and show me how to put the thing together. Which piece goes where?" Mrs. Franklin took the skirt and Katherine went to work at the waist, pinning and basting firmly, so that there could be no mistake in the result. Beatrice leaned lazily against the side of the house and watched them admiringly, praising their skill now and then in accents suspiciously soft.