sions they had been pulling about the beautiful bends
of the river. Cecil, paddling her canoe, with a trolling-line out at the
end of it, and Bluebell rowing a boat, while Lilla fished with a very
especial spoon-bait of her own devising. Despite, however, the seductions
of the gaudy red cloth and tassel of long hair from a deer's tail, not a
fish impaled itself on the circle of formidable hooks prepared for its
reception, and the mid-day sun began to dart fiercely on them.

"All nature speaks of luncheon and repose," cried Lilla, beginning to
wind up her line, after the frequent weed had repeatedly mocked her hopes
with its dull, dead pull. "Let us moor the fleet under this overhanging
fir-tree, Cecil; it makes quite a bower."

"It feels like thunder, the fish don't bite, and the mosquitoes do,"
assented Cecil. "We must signal for the Infantry, though, who are also
the Commissariat."

Bluebell tied a silk handkerchief to her oar, and waved it wildly.

"I wonder if that old nuisance enjoys herself," speculated Miss Tremaine,
as Miss Prosody's prim visage appeared in the stern of the other boat.
"So like you English, always carrying your propriety about in the shape
of a foil."

"Don't abuse our treasure," said Cecil, demurely. "Ask papa what he
thinks of Miss Prosody."

"I should get a more impartial opinion from Estelle and Fleda, who are
always being kept in and bullied."

"Well, I really think the other children are enough for to-day," said
Cecil. "What a fuss Freddy made to get after Bluebell into that tituppy
little boat of yours."

"Yes, and you would all have been beseeching him not to till now, if I
had not taken him by the scruff of the neck and dropped him into the
other!"

"Well, dear," said Cecil, languidly; "we don't all possess your strength
of mind and biceps. What have you got there, Lola?" as the boatman deftly
shot the other boat under the overhanging branches.

"Water-lily leaves for plates! See now stiff and shining they are, and
washed up so clean."

"Then, I suppose we must not use these wooden ones, my fanciful fairy?"

"Don't be so foolish, Lola!" snapped in Miss Prosody. "You'll spoil your
frock; throw them away!"

"We can put them over the platters," said Cecil. "Hand out the edibles,
Bluebell. What have you got?"

"Here's a pie, a cake, a tart, croquettes; no knives, about a pound of
salt, and some butter in the last stage of dissolution."

"No knives!" cried Miss Prosody. "T