ore lunch--the getting
ready."

"Oh, you know what I mean," Lottie grumbled. "It makes one's hands so
horrid to handle cooking things."

"Were you going to paddle?" asked Cora, innocently.

"I was going to try," admitted Lottie.

"Then your hands will be in better shape from some active work," Cora
added, mischievously. "It is awful to try to paddle with soft hands."

"Oh, I guess mine are not any too soft," Lottie retorted, a bit
abashed that she should have fallen into the trap.

"Where are you going, Lottie?" asked Marita. "You know it is only safe
to canoe near the shore. The water can be very rough sometimes."

"I don't think you ought to go in a canoe until you can swim," said
Cora. "You know a canoe is the most uncertain of craft, except that it
is absolutely certain to upset if you draw a breath in, when you
should send a breath out. Jack says a canoe is more than human, but I
won't shock your ears by saying what he thinks it is."

"I am sure there is no danger when one sits still," Lottie insisted,
"but if you don't want me to go, Cora----"

"Of course I want you to go, and have a nice time," Cora explained,
"but I don't want you to upset. You should wear a bathing suit and be
ready to swim in case of a spill."

"Oh, I couldn't do that!" exclaimed Lottie, rather shocked. "I am
going with Clem."

"Well, I hope Clem will put you in the very bottom of the boat, and
not trust to a seat. Even a big cushion is wobbly," finished Cora.
"Now, young ladies, are you ready for a tramp? We have to walk to the
old village this morning to shop, unless you want to go to the dock
and take Frank's ferry. He will take us across for ten cents each, and
we need things to eat."

"Oh, do let us walk," begged Bess. "I haven't seen half the things
that grow around here."

"Do _you_ grow around here?" asked Belle, maliciously, inferring that
the desired walk was needed to "reduce." A withering look was the
answer she received from her twin sister. Just the same the walk was
decided upon, and a little later the wintergreen path was alive with
voices. It was one of the delights of Summer to tramp and ramble; and
in spite of the joys of motor boating the girls were not slow to
appreciate the pleasures of dry land decked in various shades of
foliage green and floral tints.

The mountain laurel was at its best--that little tasselled thing we
call "pfingster," but which looks quite aristocratic enough to belong
to the orchi