them. I was taking
observations upon Rhodora.

She was decidedly a handsome girl--handsome seems the word. She was
rather large, well-proportioned, blooming in colour, with somewhat
strikingly modeled features. She wore sleeves to her elbows, and her
arms were round and firm. She sat in a nonchalant attitude in which her
arms were considerably in evidence.

"Rhodora," said Grandmother, turning to look our way, "did I bring my
little black silk bag from the carriage?"

"Didn't see it," replied Rhodora. "Which way is Bluebeard Mountain?" she
inquired of me.

The Gay Lady and I arose at the same instant. I went into the house to
search for the bag, and when I could not find it the Gay Lady went away
down to the red barn to find if the black silk bag had been left in the
carriage. She came back bringing it.

"Thank you, my dear," said Grandmother, with a smile which might have
repaid anybody for a much longer trip than that to the carriage.

* * * * *

After a time I managed to exchange places with the Gay Lady, feeling
that Rhodora very plainly did consider me an elderly person, and that,
in spite of her confidence that the Gay Lady was not "a real girl," as
girls of Rhodora's age use the term, she might take her as a substitute
for one.

The Gay Lady took Rhodora down to the river, and out in the boat. I
understood from what I heard later that the Gay Lady, although a fine
oarswoman, did not row Rhodora about the river. Rhodora began by
dropping into the stern seat among the cushions, but the Gay Lady fitted
two sets of oars into the rowlocks, and offered Rhodora the position of
stroke. The Gay Lady is very sweet and courteous in manner, but I could
quite understand that when she offered the oars to Rhodora, Rhodora
accepted them and did her best.

When they came back it was time for luncheon, and I took my guests to
the white room.

"What a cool, reposeful room, my dear," said Grandmother. She patted her
white curls in front of the mirror, which is an old-fashioned, oblong
one, in which two people cannot well see themselves at the same time.
Rhodora came up behind her, stooped to peer over her shoulder, and
seized upon the ivory comb which lay on the dressing-table. Her elbow,
as she ran the comb through her fluffy hair, struck Grandmother's
delicate shoulder. The old lady turned and regarded her granddaughter in
astonishment.

"Want the comb?" inquired Rhodora, having finish