"Why--I just remembered it because--I liked it, and because--well, the people with me said--said it was about the best thing in the exhibit, and they talked about it a good deal. And then I remember that Hollie had spoken of you, and then I--I----" "Never mind," he said. After a moment, he added, "The confounded picture was no good, anyhow!" The girl started. "What makes you speak so of it? It was good. Of course, I don't know--I can't talk about pictures, but," she said in distress, "everybody said it was fine." "It wasn't any good," he persisted, with dogged shakes of the head. From off in the darkness they heard the sound of Hollanden's oars splashing in the water. Sometimes there was squealing by the Worcester girls, and at other times loud arguments on points of navigation. "Oh," said the girl suddenly, "Mr. Oglethorpe is coming to-morrow!" "Mr. Oglethorpe?" said Hawker. "Is he?" "Yes." She gazed off at the water. "He's an old friend of ours. He is always so good, and Roger and little Helen simply adore him. He was my brother's chum in college, and they were quite inseparable until Herbert's death. He always brings me violets. But I know you will like him." "I shall expect to," said Hawker. "I'm so glad he is coming. What time does that morning stage get here?" "About eleven," said Hawker. "He wrote that he would come then. I hope he won't disappoint us." "Undoubtedly he will be here," said Hawker. The wind swept from the ridge top, where some great bare pines stood in the moonlight. A loon called in its strange, unearthly note from the lakeshore. As Hawker turned the boat toward the dock, the flashing rays from the boat fell upon the head of the girl in the rear seat, and he rowed very slowly. The girl was looking away somewhere with a mystic, shining glance. She leaned her chin in her hand. Hawker, facing her, merely paddled subconsciously. He seemed greatly impressed and expectant. At last she spoke very slowly. "I wish I knew Mr. Oglethorpe was not going to disappoint us." Hawker said, "Why, no, I imagine not." "Well, he is a trifle uncertain in matters of time. The children--and all of us--shall be anxious. I know you will like him." CHAPTER IX. "Eh?" said Hollanden. "Oglethorpe? Oglethorpe? Why, he's that friend of the Fanhalls! Yes, of course, I know him! Deuced good fellow, too! What about him?" "Oh, nothing, only he's coming here to-morrow," answered Hawker. "What kind of a fellow did you say he was?" "Deuced good fellow! What are you so---- Say, by the nine mad blacksmiths of Donawhiroo, he's your rival! Why, of course! Glory, but I must be thick-headed to-night!" Hawker said, "Where's your tobacco?" "Yonder, in that jar. Got a pipe?" "Yes. How do you know he's my rival?" "Know it? Why, hasn't he been---- Say, this is getting thrilling!" Hollanden sprang to his feet and, filling a pipe, flung himself into the chair and began to rock himself madly to and fro. He puffed clouds of smoke.