d the canoe with a sail up," remarked the latter. "With
this wind it must be absolutely flying."

"Not quite so dry," said Lascelles, laughing. "Du Meresq is such a
duffer; he ships a lot of water."

"Cecil," said Bertie, giving a pre-conceived idea the air of an
_impromptu_, "come up to Coonwood with us; it's lovely scenery all the
way, and I should have a companion back."

"What do you say, mamma; may I go?" dropping her eyes and speaking in an
indifferent voice, to disguise her delight in the anticipation.

"May I go?" mimicked Lascelles to himself. "Bertie is always sacrificing
me to some girl or other. She will swamp the boat,--it's within an inch
of the water already with my portmanteau,--and very likely make me miss
my train, or get wet through pulling her out." This in soliloquy, but he
looked courteous and smiling.

Mrs. Rolleston hesitated; in her heart she acquiesced; but what would the
Colonel say? The younger ones took silence for consent, and Cecil was
reclining on a bear-skin at the bottom of the canoe, Lascelles kneeling
in a cramped attitude, with the steering paddle, in the bow, and Bertie
in charge of the sail, before words of prohibition could come from her.

"Dear me! I don't half like it," said she, nervously. "How stormy it
looks in the west. How long will it take you?"

"We shall have the wind back," said Bertie. "About two hours and a
half--three at the outside. I'll bring her home in good time for
dinner,"--and Cecil kissed her hand in laughing defiance while he spread
the sail to the wind, and, catching the light breeze after a flap or two,
they glided gaily on their course.

"Don't move about, Cecil," said Du Meresq; "we are rather low down in the
water."

No one knew better than Cecil, who had quite appreciated the small spice
of risk in weighting the frail bark with an additional person; but then
it was worth it to sail back alone with Bertie.

"You are getting dreadfully wet, I am afraid, Miss Rolleston," said
Lascelles. "Ease the sail a bit, Bertie."

"You shouldn't keep her head to the waves," argued the other, "as if it
were a boat. Keep her broadside to them, and we shan't ship half so
many."

There was a fresh breeze when they left the landing, but, after getting
three miles or so on their way, the wind rose almost into a squall; white
horses raced on the lake, and, in spite of every effort of the two young
men, about one wave in ten flung a curl of spray over Cecil. Ber