As the searchers made their way toward the crest of the hill, the dry twigs that lay upon the ground broke under their feet, and the underbrush snapped as they pushed the low branches back. As they approached the rock where Gwen was sitting, she heard their voices, and believing that instead of one tramp, an entire band of tramps was coming toward her, she screamed with fright, and slipping from the rock, cowered on the gra.s.s, trying to make herself as small as possible.

They had heard her outcry, however, and now they called her name.

"Gwen! Little Gwen! Where are you? We've come to find you!"

Crying out to them, she hurried forward, her arms outstretched, as she stumbled over the rough, coa.r.s.e gra.s.s, over roots, and dry sticks that lay in her path, until, in the effort to run, she pitched and would have fallen, had not the big man of the party caught her, and swung her to a safe place upon his shoulder.

For once Gwen was truly grateful, and closely she clung about the big man's neck, so glad was she, that he and his friends had clambered up to her lonely perch on the big rock at the summit of the hill.

Once she whispered in his ear. "There was a big, horrid tramp up on that hill. I know, because I heard him shout at Max. I wonder if he hurt Max, and I wonder where Max is now. Did some other men go hunting for him, just as you hunted for me?"

"No need of hunting for Max," the big man replied, "for he took good care of himself, and came sneaking home, safe and sound, while he left you, little girl, to look out for yourself as well as you could."

With care they made their way down the rugged hillside, and Gwen was so happy that she sang s.n.a.t.c.hes of songs, and someone in the rear whistled to keep her company.

Arrived at the house, Gwen had a fine welcome.

She was not generally liked, because of her pert, saucy ways, but the fact that she had been lost, and now had returned was surely a reason for rejoicing.

"Where's Max?" queried a young man who had been one of the searchers.

"The dear boy was so tired with his tramp that he asked to go at once to bed. He was really fatigued, for usually he coaxes to remain up,"

Mrs. Deland said, "and really," she continued, "the only reason that he did not take Gwen along with him was because she said that she _must_ rest a while."

"I suppose it was impossible for him to wait with her," said someone in the crowd.

"Max is very tender hearted," Mrs. Deland responded, "and he said he thought if he waited, she might start before she was sufficiently rested."

With much dignity, Mrs. Deland turned from the piazza, and entered the house. She knew that Max was at fault, and that everyone in the group thought so.

She would not acknowledge that her little son could be in the wrong.

Max, according to her ideas, should be praised, and approved of at all times.

Gwen was the center of interest, and that pleased her greatly. Mrs.

Harcourt was delighted, fairly beamed upon those who crowded around her small daughter, to ask all about her long tramp and how it seemed to be alone on the wooded hilltop.

Of course the story lost nothing in the telling.

Gwen made it really thrilling, but after a time, even her mother felt that the tale was becoming rather lurid for a strictly truthful account, and she dragged Gwen away to the hall, and up the stairway, but she made herself absurd.

"Really, Gwen, you should be a bit careful," she said, as gently as if afraid of offending her small girl. "If your wonderful imagination made you think you saw eyes peering at you from behind those tree-trunks, you should remember that common people might not believe you. Ordinary people could not understand."

"I don't care if they don't!" Gwen said stoutly. "I shall tell what I want to, and they can believe it or not, just as they choose."

"I surely am the mother of a genius," murmured the silly woman.

A few days later, great excitement prevailed among the children of the Summer colony at Cliffmore, and their elders were sufficiently interested to talk of the news on the piazza, the beach, the little park, at breakfast, at lunch, and at dinner.

"It is really to be quite an affair," said one lady, to which her friend replied:

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, for I heard that no expense had been spared, and that the whole thing will be as beautiful as a dream."

"Who planned it, or who is managing it?" questioned another, to which yet another who now joined the group replied:

"Captain Atherton is 'backing' it, I hear, and so, of course, Rose will be the central figure in the pageant."

Yes, that was the cause of the excitement. There was to be a grand pageant, and the children would be the princ.i.p.al actors.

"Is Gwen Harcourt to be in the pageant?" someone asked, but before anyone could reply Mrs. Harcourt joined them.

"Is my little Gwen to be in it? Why, what a question!" she said. "They would hardly have a pageant without her."

"I suppose not," someone said, in a tone of disgust, but Mrs. Harcourt did not notice that.

"Well, no," she responded. "I hardly think they could, because beside the part that Gwen will actually take, she will be a great help in other ways. Her ideas are so original, and she is always so willing to tell others how things should be done, that she, really, is a wonderful help. The committee arranging the pageant constantly ask her advice."

"I wonder if they asked Gwen's permission to have the pageant at all?"

grumbled a small boy who stood near the ladies who had been talking.

Yes, it was to be a great event at Cliffmore, and everyone was interested.

"What are you going to be, and what are you going to wear?" were the questions oftenest asked, and groups of merry, laughing children sat chatting on the piazzas, or strolling along the beach, talking, always talking of the pageant.

It was, indeed, to be a grand and beautiful procession that would make its way along the beach.

The children were greatly excited, and each was interested in the costumes that her playmates were intending to wear, as well as that in which she would herself appear.

There had been an odd happening. Captain Atherton had chosen the list of characters to be represented, and Mrs. Sherwood had written a clear description of the costumes to be worn.

All were pleased with the parts a.s.signed them, save Gwen Harcourt and Max Deland.

"I shall not be one of the mermaids," Gwen had boldly declared. "If I can't be the Water Queen, I'll not be a water fairy at all!"

"Very well," Captain Atherton had said quietly, "I will find someone to take your place."

Gwen was surprised. She had felt sure that Captain Atherton would beg her to remain, and that he would also give to her the part of the Water Queen.

Max had had a similar experience. He had expressed his dislike for the part given him, and had been told that the parts once given out could not be changed.

"Come on, Gwen!" he had said. "We can get up something for ourselves!"

"What _do_ you mean?" she asked.

"Come on over to the big lodge, and I'll tell you. We'll have fun enough. You'll see!"