th you, either. Please,
please, come back."

Either she did not hear, or else she was too grieved to be moved by his
entreaties. She did not return, but wended her way back to her
mother's home.

Now this unfortunate matrimonial experience made Beth reckless.
Unluckily, upon reaching home, she discovered that both her mother and
Marian had gone into town to spend the day with the Corners. Still
worse, temptation assailed her in the form of an invitation from Harvey
Baker.

Beth had not seen him for several days. She had been so absorbed in
her new love that she had scarcely even thought of him. Harvey, on his
part, had thought of her very often. He had haunted the Davenport
wharf, but no Beth appeared. At first, pride had held him back from
seeking her out, but her very indifference finally proved an
irresistible attraction. Such is the masculine nature.

He came on this morning of all others to invite her out for a row.
She, at first, resisted the temptation.

"Oh, Harvey, what a shame. Mamma is not here, so I cannot go."

"Do you think she would let you go if she were here?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Then what harm would there be in your going? We would be back before
she returned."

Now, as stated before, Beth was reckless. She Just felt like doing
something a little wrong.

"I believe I'll go, Harvey."

"Bully for you, Beth. What time did you say your mother would return?"

"Not before five or six this afternoon."

"What do you say then to taking our lunch with us, and having a picnic?"

"I'll ask Maggie."

Beth knew by this time that there was little danger of Maggie refusing
her anything. If the child had asked her for the moon she would
probably have said, "Shure, honey, I'll try to git it for yo'."

So now Beth hunted up Maggie, who hustled around and soon had a
tempting feast ready for them.

"Does yo' maw know yo's gwine?" asked Maggie, as she handed the lunch
to Beth.

"No, but she would not mind, I know."

Away ran Harvey and Beth to the boat. The river was as smooth as
glass. Beth, at first, sat in the back seat, and Harvey rowed.

"I guess we'll go directly across the river. I wish it wasn't so far
to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe's," said Harvey.

"Who is she?"

"Don't you know? I thought everybody knew about her. She wrote 'Uncle
Tom's Cabin.'"

"Oh, I saw that acted at the theatre once. Does she live here?"

"She has a place up the river aways, but it is dese