and glistening in the sunshine, but no blue-clad figures leaped and
pranced across it, no merry faces emerged from the blue, sparkling
water. All was silent and solitary.

"Why, Gerald," cried Margaret, "where are they all? have they gone in?
Surely I heard their voices just a moment ago, and a great splash: where
can they be?"

"A stunt!" replied Gerald. "For our benefit, I presume, but I scorn
their levity. I advise you to take no notice of their childish pranks. I
myself was young, once upon a time, but what then?"

They were now at the float, and Margaret looked about her, in utter
amazement. All was silent; not a voice, not a whisper; no soul was in
sight. It was as if she and Gerald were alone in the world. She stepped
out on the float: at the instant, up from under her feet rose a sound as
if the biggest giant that ever swung a club were sneezing. "A--_tchoo_!"

Margaret screamed outright. "Gerald! what is it?"

"Come out from there!" cried Gerald. "They are under the float,
imbeciles that they are. The Pater has gone ashore, and the others
manifest their nature, that is all. Come out, Apes of the Apennines! or
I'll--"

The threat remained unfinished, for the Merryweathers came out. Swarming
up from under the float, where they had been treading water at their
ease, with plenty of breathing-space, they flung themselves with one
accord upon Gerald's boat, capsized it, and dragged him into the water.
A great splashing contest ensued, with much shouting and merriment, and
they were still hard at it when "All in!" sounded from the boat-house.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE MAIL

"STILL raining, Phil?" asked Mrs. Merryweather, looking up from her
writing.

"Still, honored parent! or rather, to be exact, anything but still. Up
on the hill, the wind is fierce. I had to ride round the blast once or
twice, instead of going through it. Solid old wind, that!"

He threw off his dripping oilskin jacket, and came in, unslinging the
letter-bag from his shoulder as he came.

"Letters! letters!" he cried. "Who wants letters?"

Every one gathered around him, holding out eager hands.

"One for me, Phil!"

"For me, Protector of the Poor!"

"Oh! please, Phil! I want three at least."

"If there is none for me, Fergy my boy, I shudder at the consequences
for you!"

Phil distributed letters and papers; the family subsided on chairs and
benches with their treasures, and for some minutes nothing was heard but
the rus