I landed and roamed idly over leaf-strewn walks past

nearly a hundred cottages, to whose windows and verandas

the winter blinds gave a dreary and inhospitable

air. There was, at one point, a casino, whose broad veranda

hung over the edge of the lake, while beneath, on

the water-side, was a boat-house. I had from this point

a fine view of the lake, and I took advantage of it to

fix in my mind the topography of the region. I could

see the bold outlines of Glenarm House and its red-tile

roofs; and the gray tower of the little chapel beyond

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the wall rose above the wood with a placid dignity.

Above the trees everywhere hung the shadowy smoke of

autumn.

I walked back to the wharf, where I had left my

canoe, and was about to step into it when I saw, rocking

at a similar landing-place near-by, another slight

craft of the same type as my own, but painted dark

maroon. I was sure the canoe had not been there when

I landed. Possibly it belonged to Morgan, the caretaker.

I walked over and examined it. I even lifted it

slightly in the water to test its weight. The paddle lay

on the dock beside me and it, too, I weighed critically,

deciding that it was a trifle light for my own taste.

"Please-if you don't mind-"

I turned to stand face to face with the girl in the red

tam-o'-shanter.

"I beg your pardon," I said, stepping away from the

canoe.

She did not wear the covert coat of the morning, but

a red knit jacket, buttoned tight about her. She was

young with every emphasis of youth. A pair of dark

blue eyes examined me with good-humored curiosity.

She was on good terms with the sun-I rejoiced in the

brown of her cheeks, so eloquent of companionship with

the outdoor world-a certificate indeed of the favor of

Heaven. Show me, in October, a girl with a face of

tan, whose hands have plied a paddle or driven a golf-ball

or cast a fly beneath the blue arches of summer,

and I will suffer her scorn in joy. She may vote me

dull and refute my wisest word with laughter, for hers

are the privileges of the sisterhood of Diana; and that

soft bronze, those daring fugitive freckles beneath her

eyes, link her to times when Pan whistled upon his reed

and all the days were long.

She had approached silently and was enjoying, I felt

sure, my discomfiture at being taken unawares.

I had snatched off my cap and stood waiting beside

the canoe, feeling, I must admit, a trifle guilty at being

caught in the unwarrantable inspection of another person's

property-particularly a person so wholly pleasing

to the eye.

"Really, if you don't need that paddle any more-"

I looked down and found to my annoyance that I held

it in my hand,-was in fact leaning upon it with a cool

air of proprietorship.




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