"Now the cloud has changed shape
again. It's the image of old Jim's dog, Bull."

Phil turned away in utter disgust. "You don't have to go to Bronx Park to
see the zoo," he muttered.

"Not when we have you with us," Jessie retorted, at which Phil retreated
in undignified haste.

The girls turned laughingly to each other.

"What do you say if we have an old-fashioned talk?" suggested Evelyn.
"There's has been such a crowd around all the time that we haven't had a
minute to talk things over."

"Let's not sit in any regular, ordinary old place to-day, said Lucile.
Let's find some snug little corner in the stern, where we can do just as
we please and make believe we are back in camp. Oh, for one little sight
of our guardian!"

"If she were only here, our happiness would be complete," said Jessie, as
they made their way back. "I wonder how Marjorie and Eleanor and Dot and
Ruth and the whole bunch of them are, anyway. I'm crazy to see them
all."

"And we haven't heard from them in so long! I do wish it didn't take mail
so long to travel across the----Oh, here's the very place we are looking
for, girls," she interrupted herself. "It's just big enough for three of
us, and I don't believe anybody ever comes this way."

So saying, she pulled a chair into the corner and made herself
comfortable, while Jessie and Evelyn followed her example.

"You're a wonder at thinking things, Lucy," said Evelyn, as she
comfortably settled herself with her head resting against the cabin.
"This is ever so much better than sitting where everybody can look at
us."

"Of course it is," agreed Lucile. Then, after a moment, she added,
dreamily, "Girls, do I look any different than I did when we started?
Somehow, I feel awfully different."

Jessie regarded her through lazy, half-closed eyes. "No," she drawled, "I
don't see that you've changed so much. Your nose and eyes and mouth are
all the same and your hair still curls. You have tanned, though, and
there's a little rim of white right up close to your hair, where the
curls keep the sun off, and ever since a certain morning"--here Jessie
and Evelyn, companions in crime, exchanged glances, and Lucile began to
burn a deeper red under the tan--"and ever since a certain morning I have
noticed a very marked tendency toward dreaming, and several times when
you should have answered 'no' to a question you have answered 'yes,' and
we knew you hadn't heard a single word. Aside from that, you haven't