e evasively. She smiled with
pleasure in Miss Anderson's impeachment, however.

"Oh, he keeps coming, if that's what you mean. But do drop an
umbrella, or a rubber, or something, next time, just to show a proper
appreciation."

But Mavering did not come any more. Just before they got to the cove,
Miss Anderson leaned over again to whisper in Alice's ear, "I told you
he was huyt. Now you must be very good to him the rest of the time."

Upon theory a girl of Alice Pasmer's reserve ought to have resented this
intervention, but it is not probable she did. She flushed a little, but
not with offence, apparently; and she was kinder to Mavering, and let
him do everything for her that he could invent in transferring the
things from the wagons to the rocks.

The party gave a gaiety to the wild place which accented its proper
charm, as they scattered themselves over the ledges on the bright shawls
spread upon the level spaces. On either hand craggy bluffs hemmed
the cove in, but below the ledge it had a pebbly beach strewn with
drift-wood, and the Bay of Fundy gloomed before it with small fishing
craft tipping and tilting on the swell in the foreground, and dim sail
melting into the dun fog bank at the horizon's edge.

The elder ladies of the party stood up, or stretched themselves on the
shawls, as they found this or that posture more restful after their long
drive; one, who was skilled in making coffee, had taken possession of
the pot, and was demanding fire and water for it. The men scattered
themselves over the beach, and brought her drift enough to roast an
ox; two of them fetched water from the spring at the back of the ledge,
whither they then carried the bottles of ale to cool in its thrilling
pool. Each after his or her fashion symbolised a return to nature by
some act or word of self-abandon.

"You ought to have brought heavier shoes," said Mrs. Pasmer, with a
serious glance at her daughter's feet. "Well, never mind," she added.
"It doesn't matter if you do spoil them."

"Really," cried Mrs Brinkley, casting her sandals from her, "I will not
be enslaved to rubbers in such a sylvan scene as this, at any rate."

"Look at Mrs. Stamwell!" said Miss Cotton. "She's actually taken her hat
off."

Mrs. Stamwell had not only gone to this extreme, but had tied a lightly
fluttering handkerchief round her hair. She said she should certainly
not put on that heavy thing again till she got in sight of civilisation.

At these