"Not any?" exclaimed Rosalind, to whom the idea of no books was a dreadful one.

"But they were in a story and were having lots of fun," said Belle.

"And they found their books in brooks, didn't they?" added Maurice.

"When you are having fun, you don't read so much, that is true," Rosalind said, burying her hands in the ma.s.s of clover blooms Katherine tossed into her lap. "We'll make a long, long chain, Katherine, and let it trail behind us as we go home."

"Give me your experience," said Allan, stretched at lazy length, with his arms under his head. "Have you found that there is good in things invariably?"

"I like Mr. Allan because he talks to us as if we were grown up," Belle whispered to Rosalind.

"There is more than you would think, till you try." Maurice answered.

"I think so. Uncle Allan," said Rosalind. "I shouldn't have had this good time and learned to know all of you, if father had not gone with Cousin Louis. He said if I stayed in the Forest of Arden, I was sure to meet pleasant people, and I have." Rosalind looked at her companions with a soft light in her gray eyes.

"If it were not for you, we shouldn't be having half so much fun," said Belle, promptly.

"I think you would always have a good time, Belle," answered Rosalind; "but I'm afraid if I hadn't come to know all of you, I couldn't have stayed in the Forest much longer, though the magician did cheer me up."

"Then the idea is, that it is only when you stay in the Forest that you find the good in things?" said Allan.

"That was the way in the story. Everything came right in the Forest,"

Rosalind answered.

"I believe," said Allan, "I should like to be an Arden Forester."

This announcement was received with enthusiasm.

"That is, if I understand it. 'To remember the Forest secret, to bear hard things bravely--'"

"And if you are an honorary member, like Miss Celia and Morgan, you won't have to search for the ring," put in Belle.

"The ring is found, and is waiting till the magician breaks the spell. You know, Uncle Allan, he has hung it on a nail in his shop, by the door, just as if he were trying really," Rosalind explained.

"I think I shall ask to be taken on probation," Mr. Whittredge continued.

"What's that?" asked Jack.

"On trial. I might not do you credit, you know."

The Arden Foresters refused to admit the possibility of this, and Belle and Rosalind began delightedly to enumerate their members.

They rowed homeward slowly, for it was up stream, and as they went they unwound the clover chain, and let it trail far behind them until it caught among the reeds and was broken.

When they pa.s.sed the Gilpin place, on their way from the landing, a stop was made for a fresh supply of oak leaves from their favorite tree, and Rosalind pinned one on her uncle's coat.

"I invite the Arden Foresters to meet with me to-morrow under the greenwood tree," said Mr. Whittredge, surveying his badge.

"That's poetry, go on," said Jack.

"I'll have to fall back into prose to finish. At the foot of Red Hill, at half-past seven P.M."

"What tree does he mean?" asked Katherine.

"Under the greenwood tree is a poetical figure," Mr. Whittredge explained.

"It will be dark at half-past seven," said Jack.

"Of course it will be, and that's going to be the fun," cried Belle.

"There will be a moon," added Maurice, who was wise in such matters.

"And what are we to do there?" asked Rosalind.

"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give her.

Antic.i.p.ation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock, while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her quizzically now and then.

"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.

Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.

"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.

"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."

"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of good-fellowship.

The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having pa.s.sed, they set out.

Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street the Partons joined them.

Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star.

On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log, with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.

"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.

The magician was evidently expecting them, for he at once began distributing pointed sticks.

"What are they for?" asked Belle.

This was soon explained. Mr. Whittredge produced a tin box from somewhere and proceeded to open it, and Katherine, who was next him, said, "Marshmallows."

"Yes, this is a marshmallow roast," he replied; and fixing one of the white drops on the pointed stick, he held it toward the glowing embers.

The others followed his lead without loss of time,--the magician and all; and Curly Q. sat erect and eager, giving an occasional m.u.f.fled "woof" to remind them that he liked marshmallows too.

The rose tints faded from the sky; the moon sailed higher; and the glow of the fire grew deeper. The Arden Foresters toasted and talked, and ate their marshmallows, not forgetting Curly Q., and were as merry as the crickets that chirped around them,--as merry, at least, as those insects are said to be.