ng stretch of lake front with houses and
gardens and barns was sucked under."

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Lloyd, with a shiver. "Let us go somewhere else,
Papa Jack," she begged. "I don't want to sleep in a place where the bottom
may drop out any minute."

Her father laughed at her fears, and the Major assured her that they would
not take her to a hotel near the water's edge.

"We are going to the other side of the town, to an inn that stands close
against the mountainside. The inn-keeper is an old friend of mine, who has
lived here all his life."

In spite of all they said to quiet her fears, the Little Colonel was far
from feeling comfortable, and took small pleasure at first in going to see
the sights of the quaint little town. She was glad when they pushed away
from the pier next morning, in the steamboat that was to take them across
the lake to the William Tell chapel. She dreaded to return, but a handful
of letters from Lloydsboro Valley, and one apiece from Betty and Eugenia
that she found awaiting her at the inn, made her forget the shifting sands
below her. She read and re-read some of them, answered several, and then
began to look for the Major and Hero. They were nowhere to be found.

They went away directly after lunch, her father told her, to the chalet on
the mountain back of the town. "You will have to be content with my humble
society," he added. "You can't expect to be always escorted by titled
soldiers and heroes."

"Now you're teasin'," said Lloyd, with a playful pout. "But I do wish that
the Majah had left Hero. There are so few times left for us to go walkin'
togethah."

"I'm afraid that you look oftener at that dog than you do at the scenery
and the foreign sights that you came over here to see," said her father,
with a smile. "You can see dogs in Lloydsboro Valley any day."

"But none like Hero," cried the Little Colonel, loyally. "And I _am_
noticin' the sights, Papa Jack. I think there was nevah anything moah
beautiful than these mountains, and I just love it heah when it is so
sunny and still. Listen to the goat-bells tinklin' away up yondah where
that haymakah is climbing with a pack of hay tied on his shouldahs! And
how deep and sweet the church-bell sounds down heah in the valley as it
tolls across the watah! The lake looks as blue as the sapphires in
mothah's necklace. The pictuah it makes for me is one of the loveliest
things that my wondah-ball has unrolled. Nobody could have a bet