d been stopped by
patches of broken stone. For at least a mile, however, at the bend of
the river, the banks were crumbling and neglected.

He could look up and see, first the farms of the low-lying land, the
treetops and pointed silos just showing above the dike, then the
hillside, with the wavering white line of the road, then that strange,
shabby dwelling of yellow stone almost hidden in its cluster of trees.
Above it showed Cousin Jasper's house, very big and red, set upon the
slope almost at the top of the ridge. On the other side of the stream
there were fewer dwellings, the wooded slope rising to the more open
green of the orchard and then to the grassy declivity of the Windy
Hill. As he neared the bridge he passed a long gray stone house with
its gardens a glowing mass of color that came down to the water's very
edge. This, he remembered, was the abode of Cousin Eleanor, and he
laughed at himself as, even at this safe distance, he steered his
course very cautiously along the opposite bank.

At the bridge he was obliged to turn, and run before the wind to make
his way upstream again. He lay stretched out comfortably along the
rail, paying little attention to the boat and thinking of many things.
There was Cousin Jasper--how Oliver had misjudged him that day he
thought of running away. His cousin had been tactless and stubborn,
but the Cousin Eleanor affair had been well meant, after all.

"I'll never meet her, though. I won't give in," he declared, almost
aloud, and realized, in a breath, that his persistence and Cousin
Jasper's were both cut from the same piece.

"I'm sorry for him and I'll help him," he told himself, "and perhaps
he will learn something about boys after a while."

And there was Anthony Crawford! He flushed again as he thought of the
man's gleeful delight when he had caught him looking over the wall.
What power could he have, and what was the disgrace of which he had
spoken? The Beeman was almost as mysterious as the others also; he
had certainly managed to evade the question when Oliver had asked his
name.

"The only one that there isn't a mystery about is Polly," he declared
as he came to John Massey's little landing and rounded with a sweep to
the boat's mooring.

Meanwhile Janet, who had been left to her own devices, had stumbled
into an adventure of her own. She had made ready to go with her
brother, but Cousin Jasper had called her to look at some new roses
and had delayed her so