his chair fidgeting in frank impatience. When her brother
finally urged her to make haste she broke forth into an explanation
that was almost a wail.

"It is because I can't forget where we have to go to-day," she
declared. "Oh, why--why did I make such a terrible mistake and carry
that miserable picture away?"

Even Oliver looked none too cheerful at the prospect before them.

"We have to do it," he agreed, "but I think we will go over to the
Windy Hill first. I promised Polly's father I would tell him what I
saw from the boat. But after that there will be plenty of time and we
will go to Anthony Crawford's."

"I ought to go alone," Janet said, "for it was I who made the trouble.
And shall we tell the Beeman?"

"Not until afterward," replied Oliver. "If there is difficulty about
the picture it would be easier if no one were concerned but just
ourselves. And indeed you won't go alone! We are in this thing
together."

It had rained in the night so heavily that the clumps of larkspur and
more tender plants were beaten down and only the shower-loving lilies
lifted their wet, shining faces above the green. The sky was still
overcast, with threats of another downpour, yet the two put on their
raincoats and set forth undeterred.

"There is an old apple shed in the corner of the orchard where we can
leave the car," said Oliver. "Polly showed me, last time, where we
could drive in."

The highway was smooth and wet and the river was perceptibly higher
under the bridge. They pressed onward, up the grass-covered road,
drove through the gap in the orchard wall, and felt their way along
the open lane between the apple trees. The car was finally housed in
the shelter of the shed and Janet and Oliver raced up the hill, for
the first drops of a new shower were just beginning to fall, and
Polly, in the doorway of the cottage, was beckoning them to make
haste. The downpour was a sharp one that pattered on the roof, ran
streaming from the eaves, and blotted out the hills opposite. The
grass and the orchard, however, seemed to grow greener every moment
under the refreshing rain, and the clumps of pink hollyhocks that
crowded about the doorstep lifted their heads gratefully.

"We can't do much with the bees for an hour or two," observed the
Beeman, sitting down in the corner with his pipe. "Now tell me what
you saw on the river, Oliver. I noticed your sail and knew that you
were out."

Oliver made his report upon the scouring