Leaving the boat the trio bade Benny good-night and started up the hill.

"Now then, John, say good-by to your hotel," said Edna.

"Going to take me home to supper? Good work," he returned.

"Yes, and we shan't let you go back to that room full of sunrise, either."

"That sounds great"--began Dunham eagerly. "But I can't trouble you,"

he added. "Miss Sylvia has told me how to banish the light. What do you suppose Miss Martha would say if I asked her to lend me a black stocking?"

"Better not risk it," returned Edna, smiling. "Sylvia is going to stay with me a week. With the addition of yourself we shall compose a very select house party."

"I came over here to stay an hour," said Sylvia.

"So did I," added Dunham.

"Well," replied Edna, "we'll sail to the Tide Mill to-morrow and get you a few belongings."

"I trust you haven't had a moment's hope that I'd refuse," said John.

"It's too lovely for anything!" exclaimed Sylvia, taking one hand from her precious pail to squeeze her friend's arm.

She had been longing for a few days here to make her experiment. There was a promontory visible from the Fir Ledges--

They neared the cottage. "Now listen," said Edna merrily; "Miss Lacey has probably seen us. In a minute she'll come out on the piazza, and say, 'The supper isn't fit to be eaten. I should think, Edna,' and so forth, and so forth."

The words had scarcely left the girl's lips when Miss Martha bustled into view. "Here you are at last, you children," she said. "The supper isn't fit to be eaten. I _should_ think, Edna, with your experience in the length of time it always takes to get home"--

The wind-blown, disheveled trio began to laugh. "Look at this peace offering, Miss Martha," said John, holding up the pails. "Have you the heart to do anything but fall on our necks? If you had seen the drops on my brow as I stooped over those miserable little bushes."

"Yes, if anybody had seen them!" exclaimed Edna scornfully. "Go right up to the same room you had last night, John, and bathe that brow, and be down here in five minutes, if you want Miss Lacey ever to smile on you again."

Miss Martha was very proud of her dining-room at Anemone Cottage. She was wont to say at home that one of the best features of her vacation was not having to consider the cost of providing for the little household; and to-night the immaculate table, with its ferns and wild roses in the centre, was laden with good things for the wanderers who gathered about it hungrily.

"When I think how I labored to procure those berries," repeated Dunham, looking pensively at the heaped-up dish on Miss Martha's right, "it seems almost a sacrilege to eat them."

"Aunt Martha, he didn't pick a pint!" protested Sylvia. "He ought not to have one."

"Ask her what she did," returned John. "She has a sylph-like, aesthetic appearance, but I give you my word she has the most epicurean eye. She hasn't left a prize berry in those fields. Have you seen her booty?"

"No. What does he mean, Sylvia?"

"He means to distract attention from his own laziness, that's all."

"No, I don't. I mean to have some of those rotund berries of yours.

Don't you, Edna? I'll wager she hasn't thrown them in with this common lot. Have you, now?"

Sylvia laughed and colored. "No," she answered.

"Then get them," said John. "They'll be good for nothing cold. Besides, I want Miss Lacey to see them. Where are they?"

Sylvia continued to smile and keep her eyes downcast, just glancing up toward Edna, who answered for her.

"Under a gla.s.s case up in her room, probably. I told you she was going to make a necklace of them. Anyway, _you_ certainly don't deserve one.

It is just as Sylvia said, Miss Martha, he shirked in that field in a manner that was painful to witness."

"Well, he has so far to stoop," returned Miss Martha, looking at Dunham approvingly. "It must be hard for him."

"Oh, you don't know him," retorted Edna. "There's nothing he won't stoop to. He came with us and picked about ten berries, and then"--

"Miss Lacey," interrupted John, "you are so right-minded it will be a pleasure to tell you what happened. Before luncheon I went swimming with our guide, philosopher, and friend. Then such was the evil suspicion of these girls that they wouldn't take me to get berries until we had eaten luncheon. We then proceeded to demolish everything in sight except the boxes. I think Benny ate those. After that I felt as though I could s.n.a.t.c.h a few winks, but as no one of the party was wearing black stockings except the guide, philosopher, and friend, I relinquished that idea."

Miss Lacey looked up questioningly, blinking through her gla.s.ses, but the speaker proceeded:--

"Moreover, the girls wouldn't give me time to try. They dragged me out into the field and made me carry all the pails. They were willing enough while the things were empty! Well, I'd been patiently laboring about ten minutes when I began to realize how unreasonable it was for me to be taking a Turkish bath after the glorious cold plunge I'd been having; then the look that the guide, philosopher, and friend had worn as we left him returned to me with an appeal. Of course you know that affairs are very serious between him and Edna, and I felt myself in a delicate position. The thought came to me: 'Why not be magnanimous? Why not cut ice with Benny which would cool myself? I'll go back to the boat and let him take my place.' I did it. Ask him what _he_ thinks of my action."

"Well, if you've had a good time that's all that's necessary," remarked Miss Lacey placidly, amid the jeers that followed Dunham's explanation.

"That's what vacations are for."

Supper over, the party went out to the piazza, and Sylvia had no sooner seen Edna in one of the hammocks and John seated near on the boulder railing than she slipped back into the house, and to her aunt.

"Would it bother Jenny if I fussed around the stove a little, while she's doing the dishes?" she asked eagerly.

"Why, no," hesitated Miss Martha in surprise. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to make something with my berries."

"Why, child. Wait till to-morrow. Jenny will make anything you want her to."

"No, Aunt Martha." Sylvia had the unconscious air of an eager, pleading child. "It's an experiment I want to try. Please let me. I'll tell you about it afterward."

"Well, of course if you'd rather go into that hot kitchen than stay on the piazza with the others; but what in the world"--

"Oh, don't ask me, and don't tell them. They're talking about music, and they won't miss me for a little while."

Sylvia fled upstairs for her treasured pail, and down again, smiling and sparkling, into Jenny's domain. The good-natured girl made her welcome, and although Miss Lacey wished to come too, and see what her niece would be at, Sylvia laughingly closed the door upon her.

"I was never more astonished," soliloquized Miss Martha, amused and rather pleased.

She moved outdoors, and took a rocking-chair at the opposite end of the piazza from John and Edna. The latter finally interrupted her own remarks to glance at the figure sitting in the dusk. "Come over here, Sylvia. What makes you so exclusive?"

"It isn't Sylvia," replied Miss Martha's voice.

"Where is she, then?" Edna started to leave the hammock.

"Don't disturb yourself. She's happy."

"Examining her berries probably," remarked John.