Nor were the wraps lacking in beauty or usefulness. Cora had a family
shawl--the kind that defies description outside of the French-English
fashion papers. It was of the Paisley order, and did not seem to be
cut any place; at the same time it fell in folds about her arms and
neck with some invisible fastenings. Her hood was made from a piece of
the same wonderfully embroidered stuff--a big red star, with the points
drawn in. Bess and Belle both wore pretty cloaks of eiderdown. Bess
was in pink and Belle in blue.

"Take your guitar, Cora," suggested Ed. "We will have some singing."

"And you can play that piece--what is it? 'Love's Hankering?'" asked
Jack.

"'Love's Triumph,'" corrected Bess, "and it's the prettiest piece out
this summer. Cora plays it beautifully."

"It is pretty," confirmed Belle.

"Yes, I like it," admitted Cora. "As long as you are bent on a
romantic evening, we may as well have the little love song," and she
slipped the strap of her guitar case over her arm as they started off.

Jack took his banjo. He, too, liked the new summer "hit;" in fact,
every one was whistling it as well as they could, but it took tuned
strings to give it the correct interpretation.

It was delightful on the water. The smaller bay opened into another
and provided safe motor boating. The tide was slowly receding, and as
the party glided along, little moonlight-tipped waves seemed to caress
the launch. Jack and Cora were playing, Bess and Belle were humming,
while Walter was "breathing sounds" that could scarcely be classified,
and Ed was content to run the motor.

"Now, isn't that pretty?" asked Belle of Ed, as Cora and Jack finished
the popular piece.

"Very catchy," replied the young man.

"But Cora has given it a twist of her own," said Jack; "the end goes
this way," and he correctly played a few bars, "while Cora likes it
thusly," and he played a strain or two more in different style.

Was it the moonlight on the baby waves? was it the murmur of that
gliding boat? or was it something indefinable that so awakened the
sentiments of the party of gay motorists?

For some moments no one spoke; then Jack broke the spell with a lively
fandango, played in solo.

"This seems too good to last," prophesied Belle, with a sigh, "Do you
think it was all right to leave the cottage alone?"

"Now, Tinkle," and Walter moved as if to take her hand, "haven't we
assured you that the cottage expressly desired to b