scientific farming journal, with an expression of perfect
satisfaction on his face.

The long half hour came at last to an end. Mrs. Mills conducted the
procession back to the kitchen, helped tuck the girls into the robes,
and disclaiming all right to their earnest thanks, watched the wagon out
of sight.

"Which is worse, a soaking or a fourth-class phonograph?" queried Archie
from his corner.

Bert, humming "Waltz me Around Again, Willie," paused to remark:

"Why, I rather liked that. Didn't the rest of you?"

Polly shivered, not with cold alone.

"There is one song we all like, Bert," she suggested. "Let's sing it now
to keep our lungs from freezing. There's water enough all about to make
it appropriate!"

And in a minute four big male voices were shouting out the Boat Club
song, Polly's soprano sweet and clear over the rest, while Frieda smiled
encouragement over the edge of the robe in which she was wrapped to her
chin.

"We are the Winsted Boat Club,
Dip the oar, dip the oar!
We are the Winsted Boat Club,
Push out from shore!

"We are the Winsted Boat Club,
Paddle light, paddle light!
A-drifting, a-drifting beneath
The sunset bright!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

AN INTERLUDE

Algernon suffered more serious consequences from his wetting than the
others did from theirs. His cold the next day prevented him from even
attempting to go to the library. He wrote a note to Bertha, asking her
to take his place, and then, groaning over his inability to get to the
telephone, coaxed Elsmere to his side and sewed the note and the key to
his blouse.

"You cross your heart and hope to die you'll go straight to Bertha's and
give her the key?"

"Cross my heart. Hope die. And you'll give me six candies and a
rocking-horse, and a 'lectric light and a house for my pigeons, and--"

"I'll give you something nice when you've done the errand, not before.
Now hurry. The library can't open till you get there. Think of it! All
those people who want books waiting for you!" Coughing, Algernon fell
back upon his hated pillows, and watched his messenger set out, more in
hope than in confidence.

It was Fate that prevented Elsmere's fulfilling the trust, or rather,
realizing the hope, for though he did go straight to Bertha's house, he
did not find her there. The maid who opened the door proved
uncommunicative on the subject of Bertha's whereabouts, and Elsmere
sauntered away, undeci