us in advance?"

"That is a question requiring too much effort for us to discuss on a
warm day," said Nattie.

"Certain circumstances must bring about certain results, you will
acknowledge," Clem gravely remarked.

"But, it is said that every soul that is born has a twin somewhere; and
if so, that must be fate!" said Mrs. Simonson.

"Miss Kling's theory, I believe!" laughed Nattie.

"If it is so, the right ones don't often come together," said Quimby
gloomily.

"_We_ are an exception, then, to the general rule!" simpered Celeste.

Quimby groaned, and then murmured something about the toothache.

"Poor fellow!" said Cyn, in a low voice, to Nattie.

"After all, there _is_ something in fate," Nattie sighed.

"Perhaps so," she said.

"Well, we will not get solemn over fate," said Jo, cheerily; then, in a
lower voice, as he glanced at Cyn, he added--"yet."

"And do not frighten away what few fish there are here, with your
theories," commanded Clem.

Although this mandate was obeyed, and for a time silence reigned, it was
not long before they were all singing a gay song, started by Clem
himself, even Quimby joining in the chorus with a feeble tenor. But they
were tired of fishing by that time, and began to feel as if a little
refreshment would not be out of place, and would indeed enhance the
loveliness of Nature, so a fire was made, and lunch-baskets unpacked.

"It will take a good many of those fish for a mouthful," declared Clem,
who was cook.

"You may have my share, I can't eat creatures I have seen squirm," said
Nattie.

"Ah, you fastidious young woman! what shall I ever do with you, if you
are cast away on a desert island with me?" exclaimed Clem, in mock
despair.

"Set up a telegraph wire, and then she would need nothing more,"
insinuated Cyn.

"And get snubbed for my pains!" muttered Clem, _sotto voce_. But Nattie
caught the words, and an expression of distress passed over her face.

"This reminds me of that feast!" Cyn declared, as they sealed themselves
wherever convenient, with a dish of whatever was handy.

"Only more so," added Clem.

"What feast?" asked Celeste, curiously.

"One we had once," Cyn replied evasively, glad there was something
Celeste did not know about. In fact, in the matter of curiosity, Celeste
was an embryo Miss Kling.

"I am sorry we have no _Charlotte Russes_ to-day, Quimby," remarked Clem,
with an expression of transparent innocence.

Quimby could only reply