Mr. Newbeginner insisted that he knew how to make pancakes better than his wife. She therefore allowed him to try his hand at them while she cooked the meat and potatoes. Her part of the breakfast was ready before his. Thereupon, she set the pans containing the viands on a ledge of the oven above the live coals to keep them warm.

Mr. Newbeginner, as soon as he had cooked one batch of cakes, placed them beside the meat and potatoes. Then he baked another and another.

Alas, just as the last cake was baked, Mrs. Newbeginner bustled in from the bedroom where they had set the table. Now there was a long pole that ran out from the oven as its main support. Poor Mrs. Newbeginner in her excitement over their first breakfast somehow stumbled over the pole. Down she fell. But worse, down fell the stove also, and the breakfast which had caused them so much trouble tumbled into the red hot coals.

Up jumped Mrs. Newbeginner, and threw some water that happened to be handy on the fire. Her quickness saved their home from being burned, but not their breakfast. Tears rose and welled over the face of Mr.

Newbeginner in a very unmanly fashion as he gave vent to his anger.

"Well, I declare, you are the clumsiest person I ever saw. I am sorry I ever invited you to this house."

Mrs. Newbeginner looked grieved and angry. "It's as much mine as yours."

"No, it isn't. The wood belongs to me, and it is built on my place.

My beautiful pancakes are gone." He did not seem to mind so much about the food that Mrs. Newbeginner had cooked, and on which she had prided herself. "You are the most careless girl I ever saw."

"I couldn't help it. It hurt my legs awfully. See how they are skinned, but I didn't cry, did I?"

Even the sight of a pair of poor, bruised shins did not soften Mr.

Newbeginner.

"I suppose we'll have to go into the house, after all, for our breakfast. It'll be dreadfully hu-mil-ia-ting."

"Can't we go to work and cook another?" proposed tired, redfaced little Mrs. Newbeginner.

"No, we can't. The stove would have to be fixed, and we haven't time.

Even if we had, though, I wouldn't trust you to help with another meal."

Now this was too much for Mrs. Newbeginner's overtaxed nerves. "You're just horrid to say that and I'll never play with you again as long as I live. I'm going home to my mamma."

Whereupon she stalked out through the door. The sight of her retreating figure brought Mr. Newbeginner to his senses. He ran to the door after her.

"Please come back. I'm sorry."

His repentance came too late, however. His wife pretended not to hear.

He grew desperate.

"If you don't come back, I'll never make up with you, either. Please, please, come back."

Either she did not hear, or else she was too grieved to be moved by his entreaties. She did not return, but wended her way back to her mother's home.

Now this unfortunate matrimonial experience made Beth reckless.

Unluckily, upon reaching home, she discovered that both her mother and Marian had gone into town to spend the day with the Corners. Still worse, temptation a.s.sailed her in the form of an invitation from Harvey Baker.

Beth had not seen him for several days. She had been so absorbed in her new love that she had scarcely even thought of him. Harvey, on his part, had thought of her very often. He had haunted the Davenport wharf, but no Beth appeared. At first, pride had held him back from seeking her out, but her very indifference finally proved an irresistible attraction. Such is the masculine nature.

He came on this morning of all others to invite her out for a row.

She, at first, resisted the temptation.

"Oh, Harvey, what a shame. Mamma is not here, so I cannot go."

"Do you think she would let you go if she were here?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then what harm would there be in your going? We would be back before she returned."

Now, as stated before, Beth was reckless. She Just felt like doing something a little wrong.

"I believe I'll go, Harvey."

"Bully for you, Beth. What time did you say your mother would return?"

"Not before five or six this afternoon."

"What do you say then to taking our lunch with us, and having a picnic?"

"I'll ask Maggie."

Beth knew by this time that there was little danger of Maggie refusing her anything. If the child had asked her for the moon she would probably have said, "Shure, honey, I'll try to git it for yo'."

So now Beth hunted up Maggie, who hustled around and soon had a tempting feast ready for them.

"Does yo' maw know yo's gwine?" asked Maggie, as she handed the lunch to Beth.

"No, but she would not mind, I know."

Away ran Harvey and Beth to the boat. The river was as smooth as gla.s.s. Beth, at first, sat in the back seat, and Harvey rowed.

"I guess we'll go directly across the river. I wish it wasn't so far to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe's," said Harvey.

"Who is she?"

"Don't you know? I thought everybody knew about her. She wrote 'Uncle Tom's Cabin.'"

"Oh, I saw that acted at the theatre once. Does she live here?"

"She has a place up the river aways, but it is deserted now. She used to come down here quite often. We'll row straight across the river.

Did you ever row, Beth?"

"No, but you can teach me, can't you?"

"All right. Now move very carefully. I wouldn't have you fall overboard for the world."

Harvey suspended the oars in the air while Beth took the seat beside him. Then he showed her how to hold the oar.

"Now begin so--carefully and with me."

"That's easy. Is that all there is to rowing?"