All summer Betty had been in the city. Then, the last day of September came an eventful invitation from a school-friend of her mother’s. “Dear Betty,” it ran, “I know your mother can’t be persuaded to leave daddy and the boys, but can’t you pack up and spend the rest of the vacation with me in my big house here at Riverby? I’m all alone for October.” So, in two days, there was Betty in Riverby!

Mrs. Roberts and she took long motor rides, but the rest of the time—and much of the time—Betty had to amuse herself. She was always longing for a boat ride on the lovely blue river that was within sight of the house, but Mrs. Roberts never seemed inclined to go out rowing. It was one day when she was lonely and wishing for somebody her own age to play with that she wandered through the grounds down toward the shore. Some magic must have been at work, for right there upon the sandy beach sat a pink gingham dress much like Betty’s own! It turned as Betty’s white shoes crunched the coarse gravel. “Hello,” she greeted. “I was just wishing I had a girl to talk to and then you came!”

Betty laughed. “I was just wishing, myself,” she smiled. “I’m staying with Mrs. Roberts. Do you live next door?”

The pink hair-ribbon bobbed. “I’m staying with my aunt,” it said. “I just came from the West. I don’t know a soul my own age here and it’s stupid. Now that you’ve come, let’s have some fun together. My name’s Lydia. What’s yours?”

It seemed to the two of them that they had known each other always and, naturally, having so begun, it appeared that the two of them were longing to go out upon the river for a row—and had been longing for that ever since they came to Riverby.

“Don’t I wish we could find a boat!”

“Do you know where there is one?”

“No—and I’ve only rowed on the lake in the park—”“Well, never mind. You could row out a little way, if we could find a boat! Let’s!”

“We wouldn’t go out very far—”

“No, not very far. I think we can find a boat if we walk along the shore—”

So the two trotted along the sandy rim of the river and, after a while, they did come upon a boat drawn high up. There were oars in it and it appeared to be waiting for the two, just as Lydia had been waiting for Betty a half hour before. They didn’t stop to think. They merely accepted the boat as they had accepted each other. It was part of the adventure, of course. With frantic tugging, they finally launched the boat and Betty took the oars.

As she dipped them, “I’ve got to be back by four,” she said. “Mrs. Roberts asked me to go calling—pity me, Lydia, I’ll have to come back and put on my best dress. I’d rather stay on the river—I hope you’ve a watch with you. I didn’t bring mine.”

“No, I haven’t any watch but I can tell time by the sun,” reassured Lydia. “Do you know, Betty, I’m longing to know what’s just around the bend of the river. We can go that far, can’t we?”

“Sure,” replied Betty, bravely. She did not say that her arms were already rather tired. She waited for Lydia to offer to take the oars.

But when they reached the bend, right there in the very center of the river was a big wooded island. Its shore was overhung with dark pine trees. It was a most fascinating island!

“Oh, row over to the island, Betty,” screamed Lydia. “I do so want to go there! We can stop for a bit and then come back and you’ll be home in time to dress for that call.” So Betty, tired but very willing to prolong the fun, rowed on.

They beached the boat near a rock, but while they were beaching it, out fell an oar! Before anybody could get it, it had floated far out beyond reach! Oh dear! Oh dear! Could anything ever be worse! Oh dear, dear, dear!

They sat upon the beach there under the pines and wondered what was going to happen. What indeed? The island seemed nothing but woods, and the boats that passed by were too far away to hear what Betty and Lydia screamed at them. They evidently took the wild antics of the two pink dresses on the island beach as just so much joyous kind of greeting, nothing more. Neither Lydia or Betty could swim. So there was every reason to believe they would stay upon that island forever.

“My aunt didn’t know I was going off anywhere,” wailed Lydia. “She’d never think of my being here!”

“And Mrs. Roberts is expecting me to be dressed for calling at four!”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do!”

“Neither do I!”

It seemed so utterly hopeless that the two put their arms around each other and cried hard on each other’s pink gingham shoulders. Yet, as crying did not mend matters, Betty decided to make a petticoat flag and wade as far out as possible to hail the next boat. There was a rocky point that might be a good station. So she and Lydia paddled out there, leaving shoes and stockings on the shore.

The sun was gradually sinking toward the West. Lydia insisted that it must be at least half past four or five. She was sure they would have to camp out upon the island all night and was tearfully worrying about bears—“There always are bears in the woods, Betty,” she said. “I don’t want to stay here all night, oh dear! Don’t you suppose that a boat ever will come around the bend and see our signal?” But it was long after that that at last a launch sped by, leaving in its wake a track of white foam. No use to scream! The launch simply did not hear or see and there were but two in it, a lady and a man who was at the rear.

“Mrs. Roberts has a parasol exactly that shade,” wailed Betty. “It might be her out looking for me only she wouldn’t think I had gone out on the river. Since I’ve been here, we never have been boating. She’s probably hunting for me in town or else she’s gone to call without me by this time. Maybe she thinks I forgot the call and went to walk. Then, of course, she’d not be worrying or looking for me till supper time.”

“But I should think they’d have stopped the launch when they heard us scream, ‘Help!’ They must have heard!”

“No,” disagreed Betty. “Maybe they never noticed or they thought we were just a silly picnic party playing Robinson Crusoe.”

Alas!

“Well, we’ve got to stay here, Lydia.”

“It’s our punishment, I suppose.”

“Maybe we deserve it for taking a boat that didn’t belong to us.”

They sat on the rock for a long time wondering what more they could do and then Betty realized that she was fearfully hungry. Lydia, too, at the same time, longed for a couple of sandwiches. “We might go look to see if there are berries in the woods,” they agreed.

There were no berries, of course. There was only wintergreen and that wasn’t satisfying. They found remnants of some picnic’s old boxes—but that was all. The picnic must have been there weeks ago for its boxes were mere pulp now—oh dear!

Betty’s pink dress was torn and scratched by brambly twigs that were in that woods. Lydia’s hair had lost its ribbon and trailed down her back in a loose tangle. The two of them were begrimed like two tramps when, finally, Betty discovered a footprint that looked as if it were newly made. “Friday, Man Friday,” she screamed, “Look! There must be somebody on this island, if we can only find the one to whom this belongs! Hooray, maybe we’ll be rescued yet! Let’s follow in the same direction and see if we do find another picnic party—if they haven’t gone home!”

“Oh, I hope they haven’t—I don’t want to spend the night here with nothing to eat—Oh dear!”

And then they found a path!

There was another footprint upon the path too!

Betty and Lydia hurried on, their hearts beating excitement. When they turned suddenly, the woods ceased abruptly and they found themselves in full view of a summer camp!

With one wild shout, Betty ran forward to its landing. There, there was a launch and in it the two who had passed on the river and beside them, too, were other people. The launch was just about to start when Betty with Lydia at her heels darted upon the dock waving wild arms. “Stop, stop,” they cried. And then Betty saw who the lady was—why, why, it was—it was Mrs. Roberts! It was!

On the way home, Mrs. Roberts said that she hoped Betty wouldn’t decide to play Robinson Crusoe again. She looked very sober. “Our call might have been planned for tomorrow,” she smiled. “The camp would have been closed then and whatever would you and Lydia have done on the island all night!”

“I don’t know,” returned Betty. “I’m ever so sorry. Lydia is too.”

The Magical Circle

THE OCTOBER SURPRISE

October’s first surprise was easy to guess, as it was marked to open on Marjorie’s birthday, which was the twenty-second. She said it was a birthday present—but she did not guess that the birthday present was a pretty handkerchief as well as a birthday card! That was fun! The story was a Hallowe’en story, so it was marked to open on the afternoon of October thirty-first. It was called, “The Magical Circle.”