Rosalind.

"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give
her.

Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon
rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock,
while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her
quizzically now and then.

"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at
length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.

Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.

"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall
not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.

"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another
to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."

"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing
me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of
good-fellowship.

The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its
pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out.
Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street
the Partons joined them.

Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when
they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the
sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star.
On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so
pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log,
with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.

"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to
join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.

The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began
distributing pointed sticks.

"What are they for?" asked Belle.

This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere
and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said,
"Marshmallows."

"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the
white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.

The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all;
and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional muffled "woof" to
remind them that he liked marshmallows too.

The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of
the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and t