the summer day was too much even for her energy, Peggy
herself was frankly sleepy.

"But I can have naps to my house." Dorothy's chin quivered in her
disappointment, and Peggy surrendered with a laugh.

"Naps are a kind of fun you can have almost anywhere, can't you, dear?
Well, we mustn't play tag, but we'll take one of the canoes and go on a
nice little expedition all by ourselves."

Dorothy's face was radiant over the prospect of stealing a march on the
sleepers. She was on her feet in a moment, tiptoeing her way with
exaggerated caution. Amy opening one eye, saw the buoyant little figure
trip past, and wondered vaguely what was up, though in her state of
comfortable lethargy it seemed altogether too much trouble to inquire.

"Now, you must sit as quiet as a mouse," warned Peggy, lifting Dorothy
into the canoe. "For these boats are the tippy kind. And this time we'll
go up stream instead of down."

The twisting, winding river was unexpectedly alluring. Every bend Peggy
paddled past, the point just above beckoned her onward. Her temporary
drowsiness had disappeared, and she enjoyed her sense of discovery and
the exercise which was vigorous without being exhausting. Knowing that
the return would be both swift and easy, she did not hesitate to yield
to her new-born zeal for exploration, especially as Dorothy's face was
expressive of unalloyed satisfaction.

"How pretty the river is here," Peggy exclaimed at last, breaking a
long, happy silence. "Prettier than below, if anything. Dorothy, aren't
you glad we're not sleeping away our chance to see all this?"

"My mamma puts me to bed when I'm _naughty_," replied Dorothy,
thereby explaining her inability to regard sleep as a diversion. "And
I've been a good girl to-day."

"We've both been good girls," boasted Peggy. "Too good to be sent to
bed. And oh, Dorothy, see that darling little island! What do you say to
landing and exploring?"

Dorothy was ready to agree to anything which promised novelty and
excitement. Accordingly, Peggy paddled into the welcoming arms of a
miniature harbor, tied her craft to a convenient willow, and helped her
small niece ashore.

Islands had always possessed for Peggy a peculiar fascination. The
smaller they were the better, from her standpoint, since with the larger
it was always necessary to remind one's self that they were not a part
of the mainland. On this particular island it was quite impossible to
forget for a moment that you