t a web growing between your toes?"

"Oh, that is nothing!" said Hildegarde, laughing. "You should see Papa
turn back somersaults in the water. _That_ is worth seeing! Look!" she
added, a moment after, "there is a log floating down. I wonder if I can
walk on it." She swam to the log, which was coming lazily along with the
current; tried to climb on it, and rolled over with it promptly, to
Rose's great delight. But, nothing daunted, she tried again and yet
again, and finally succeeded in standing up on the log, holding out her
arms to balance herself. A pretty picture she made,--lithe and slender
as a reed, her fair face all aglow with life and merriment, and the
sunshine all round her. "See!" she cried, "I am Taglioni, the queen of
the ballet. I had--a--_oh!_ I _nearly_ went over that time--I had a
paper-doll once, named Taglioni. She was truly--lovely! You stood her on
a piece of wood--just like this; only there was a crack which held her
toes, and this has no crack. Now I will perform the Grand Pas de Fee!
La-la-tra-la--if I can only get to this end, now! Rose, I forbid you to
laugh. You shake the log with your empty mirth. La-la-la--" Here the
log, which had its own views, turned quietly over, and the queen of the
ballet disappeared with a loud splash, while Rose laughed till she
nearly lost hold of her rope.

But now the water-frolic had lasted long enough, and it was nearly
breakfast-time. Very reluctantly the girls left the cool delight of the
water, and shaking themselves like two Newfoundland dogs, ran into the
boat-house, with many exclamations over the good time they had had.

At breakfast they found Miss Wealthy looking a little troubled over a
note which she had just received by mail. It was from Mrs. Murray, the
matron of the Children's Hospital.

"Perhaps you would read it to me, Hilda dear!" she said. "I cannot make
it out very well. Mrs. Murray's hand is very illegible, or it may be
partly because I have not my reading-glasses." So Hilda read as
follows:--

DEAR MISS BOND,--Is there any one in your
neighborhood who would take a child to board
for a few weeks? Little Benny May, a boy of
four years, very bright and attractive, is
having a slow recovery from pneumonia, and has
had one relapse. I dare not send him home,
where he would be neglected by a very careless
mother; nor can we keep him longer here. I
thought you might poss