between the little incident just described and
the excursion to Lake "What-you-may-call-it" we cannot pretend to state;
but there must have been some sort of connection in Mrs Sudberry's
brain, and we record her observation because it was the origin of this
day's proceedings. Mr Sudberry had, for some time past, talked of a
long walking excursion with the whole family to a certain small loch or
tarn among the hills. Mrs Sudberry had made up her mind,--first, that
she would not go; and second, that she would get everyone else to go, in
order to let Mrs Brown and Hobbs have a thorough cleaning-up of the
house. This day seemed to suit for the excursion--hence her propounding
of the plan. Poor delicate Tilly seldom went on long expeditions,--she
was often doomed to remain at home.

Mr Sudberry shouted, "Capital! huzza!" clapped his hands, and rushed
into the house to prepare, scattering the fowls like chaff in a
whirlwind. Fired by his example, the rest of the family followed.

"But we must have our bathe first, papa," cried Lucy.

"Certainly, my love, there will be time for that." So away flew Lucy to
the nursery, whence she re-issued with Jacky, Tilly, Mrs Brown, and
towels.

The bathing-pool was what George called a "great institution." In using
this slang expression George was literally correct, for the bathing-pool
was not a natural feature of the scenery: it was artificial, and had
been instituted a week after the arrival of the family. The loch was a
little too far from the house to be a convenient place of resort for
ablutionary purposes. Close beside the house ran a small burn. Its
birthplace was one of those dark glens or "corries" situated high up
among those mountains that formed a grand towering background in all
Fred's sketches of the White House. Its bed was rugged and broken--a
deep cutting, which the water had made on the hill-side. Here was quite
a forest of dwarf-trees and shrubs; but so small were they, and so deep
the torrent's bed, that you could barely see the tree-tops as you
approached the spot over the bare hills. In dry weather this burn
tinkled over a chaos of rocks, forming myriads of miniature cascades and
hosts of limpid little pools. During heavy rains it ran roaring
riotously over its rough bed with a force that swept to destruction
whatever chanced to come in its way.

In this burn, screened from observation by an umbrageous coppice, was
the bathing-pool. No pool in the