d. "Only don't scold me
too much at first. Let us be jolly for a little bit. When will you come
to see me again?"

"That depends on your mother and, I suppose, on the people I am living
with--the Merrimans."

"I don't know them."

"Don't know them? Why, they live quite close."

"I don't know any of the girls round here. There is a Merriman called
Lucy, a horrid prig, isn't there?"

"I must confess that I don't care for her," said Rosamund.

"Ah! then we have something in common. I shall cultivate her just for
the express purpose of finding out her faults, and then we will have
more in common. Only, promise me one thing, Rose."

"What is that?" said Rosamond, suddenly struck by the gentle tone which
the queer child's voice could assume.

"You won't take up with the Leaves. Do let the Leaves alone. Mother is
always harping on them, and bringing them up to me. But the fact is,
they are afraid to come here. They have been invited scores of times;
but they always make excuses at the last moment. I know the reason, for
that terrible Miss Carter, who was nearly drowned, went straight from us
to them, and has remained with them ever since. Of course, she told
them about the boat, and the current in the middle of the lake, and the
waterfall. I have been rather curious to see them, and to give them a
good round fright, every one of them, till they blanch to the color of
ghosts, and then their green dresses wouldn't suit them any longer. But
they wouldn't come. I have got no friends. That is why I am so anxious
to have you as a friend. You don't think me so dreadful, do you?"

"I think you could be splendid; but at the present moment I consider
that you are exceedingly naughty," said Rosamund. "But then, I am not a
bit too good myself, so I suppose that is why I tolerate you. Now, will
you please row back to the shore, for I am afraid I must be returning to
the Merrimans'?"

CHAPTER VII.

TEA ON THE LAKE.

It was with some difficulty that Rosamund persuaded Irene to obey her
orders; but firmness won the day. That young lady was accustomed to
ruling with a rod of iron, but she had at last found a girl who was not
the least afraid of her, who really did not mind what she did, and who
insisted on taking one oar while she took the other. This was a new
experience, and she could do nothing, try as she would, to terrify
Rosamund, who laughed when she assured her that she was a changeling,
and might perhaps take a