ng the trip,
while those from the Merlington had done the same.

They had reached the foot of the mountain, and were tramping along a
path that ran nearly parallel to that on which the hermit's house stood.

Floretta saw the boys, near the house, and also saw that Jack Tiverton
was with them.

Without a word, she left the lady to whose arm she had been clinging,
and making her way along behind bushes and underbrush, she managed to
sneak in at the door of the hut, without having been seen by the party
of boys.

The lady, with whom she had been walking, supposed that she had run back
to join her mother, while Mrs. Paxton felt quite undisturbed, because
she believed that her little girl was still clinging to the arm of the
lady with whom she had chosen to walk.

It had required two barges to convey the party, and now they found them
waiting, the horses a bit impatient to be off.

The guests from the Merlington clambered into the first barge, and they
with a few of the farmhouse party filled it to overflowing, some of the
men being obliged to ride homeward, seated upon the steps. Meanwhile the
Cleverton people were forced to wait until the barge for their party
drove up.

The first barge had started, and was rolling along, and a chorus of
college songs was wafted back on the breeze, while handkerchiefs
fluttered as the gay passengers laughed at the crowd that had not yet
started.

Mrs. Paxton paused with her foot on the step, and looked back.

"Why, where's Floretta?" she asked.

"In the first barge," cried a voice in reply.

"Are you _sure_?" she asked.

"Why, certainly," said the other, "she's with that tall, fine-looking
lady from the Merlington. She'll be home before you are."

The second barge was soon filled and on its way. The horses were less
fresh than those of the first barge, and seemed determined to lag.
Indeed, they required constant urging to keep them from dropping into a
slow walk.

"Those other fellows ahead of us started some lively college songs,"
said a disgusted passenger, "and they're actually out of sight now; but
the way these nags are poking I couldn't think of anything to sing that
would be slow enough to be appropriate."

And while one barge was going over the road at a lively rate of speed,
and the other jogging along at a snail's pace, Floretta, at the hut, was
having a most exciting time.

Once inside the place, she had crouched beneath a window to learn, if
possible, what