glorious cold plunge I'd been
having; then the look that the guide, philosopher, and friend had worn
as we left him returned to me with an appeal. Of course you know that
affairs are very serious between him and Edna, and I felt myself in a
delicate position. The thought came to me: 'Why not be magnanimous? Why
not cut ice with Benny which would cool myself? I'll go back to the
boat and let him take my place.' I did it. Ask him what _he_ thinks of
my action."

"Well, if you've had a good time that's all that's necessary," remarked
Miss Lacey placidly, amid the jeers that followed Dunham's explanation.
"That's what vacations are for."

Supper over, the party went out to the piazza, and Sylvia had no sooner
seen Edna in one of the hammocks and John seated near on the boulder
railing than she slipped back into the house, and to her aunt.

"Would it bother Jenny if I fussed around the stove a little, while
she's doing the dishes?" she asked eagerly.

"Why, no," hesitated Miss Martha in surprise. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to make something with my berries."

"Why, child. Wait till to-morrow. Jenny will make anything you want her
to."

"No, Aunt Martha." Sylvia had the unconscious air of an eager, pleading
child. "It's an experiment I want to try. Please let me. I'll tell you
about it afterward."

"Well, of course if you'd rather go into that hot kitchen than stay on
the piazza with the others; but what in the world"--

"Oh, don't ask me, and don't tell them. They're talking about music,
and they won't miss me for a little while."

Sylvia fled upstairs for her treasured pail, and down again, smiling
and sparkling, into Jenny's domain. The good-natured girl made her
welcome, and although Miss Lacey wished to come too, and see what her
niece would be at, Sylvia laughingly closed the door upon her.

"I was never more astonished," soliloquized Miss Martha, amused and
rather pleased.

She moved outdoors, and took a rocking-chair at the opposite end of the
piazza from John and Edna. The latter finally interrupted her own
remarks to glance at the figure sitting in the dusk. "Come over here,
Sylvia. What makes you so exclusive?"

"It isn't Sylvia," replied Miss Martha's voice.

"Where is she, then?" Edna started to leave the hammock.

"Don't disturb yourself. She's happy."

"Examining her berries probably," remarked John.

"That's just what she's doing," returned Miss Lacey, laughing.

"What do you me