ghted to row you if you wish me to."

"Oh no," said Margery; "I am just wild to row myself, and I want to hurry
and get off for fear Martin will be coming down here."

"Are you sure you understand rowing and the management of a boat?" he
asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, "I can row; of course I can. I will get in, and
then you can push off the boat."

"Allow me," said the bishop. But before he could reach her to help her,
Margery stepped quickly into the boat and was about to seat herself.

"If you will take the seat next to the stern," said the bishop, holding
the boat so that it would be steady, "I think that will be better. Then
the weight of the stake in the bow will put the boat on an even keel."

"All right," said Margery, accepting his suggestion and seating herself.
"Now just wait until I get the oars into the rowlocks, and then you can
push me off."

"Which way do you intend to row?" asked the bishop.

"Oh, I shall go down towards the lower end of the lake, because that way
there are more bushes along the banks and Martin will be less apt to see
me. If I go the other way I will be in plain sight of the camp, and he may
think he ought to do something--fire a gun across my bows to bring me to,
maybe, as they do at sea."

"Hardly," said the bishop, "but let me advise you not to go very far from
the shore, so that if you feel tired you can come in easily, and if you
will allow me I will walk down the shore in the direction in which you
intend to row."

"Oh, I am not going to get tired," said she. "I could row all day. It is
splendid to be in a boat all by myself and have the whole management of
it. Now please push me off."

With some reluctance, but with a sincere desire to make the young girl
happy, which could not be overcome by prudence--at least by such prudence
as he possessed--the bishop, with a strong, steady push, sent the boat
well out on the surface of the water.

"That was beautifully done," Margery called back to him. "Now I have room
enough to turn around without any trouble at all."

She turned the boat about with its bow towards the lower end of the lake,
but it was not done without trouble. "I have not rowed for a good while,"
she said, "but I am getting used to the oars already. Now then, I'm off,"
and she began to pull with a strength which, had it been suitably paired
with skill, would have made her an excellent amateur oarswoman. But the
place of skill was supplied by enthusiasm and