It was the last week of July, and the guests of a certain hotel, located amidst the pine and balsam of the famed Adirondack wilderness, were thrown into a flutter of excitement.

It had been steadily raining for three days and nights, and now that the fourth day was nearing its close a golden light appeared in the west. The mirror-like surface of the lake before the hotel rapidly revealed the many shades of crimson red and deep gold, while fleecy clouds of pink and white merged into deeper tints.

Every one was on the piazza, called there by an enthusiast to witness the beauty of it all. Every face smiled because the long storm was over at last, and there seemed a promise of radiant sunshine for to-morrow.

Suddenly a voice from the north piazza called to a young gentleman who had been walking about with a rather dissatisfied air, “I hear wheels. Now for the excitement of an arrival.”

It was only the waiting of a few moments, and two bay horses, much bespattered with mud and mire, drew the heavily built two-seated surrey to the hotel steps.

Guests stood about by twos and threes, most of them with half-averted faces, not willing to openly show the inquisitive feeling that each possessed. However, many furtive glances were cast. Perhaps among the most searching, were those given by the dissatisfied young man.

“Permit me, madam.” It was the proprietor’s voice, as he aided a tall, fair-skinned, stern and aristocratic-looking matron to alight, assisting her meanwhile to unfasten her travelling cloak, which had caught on a nail in the end of a seat. The lady slowly remarked, as her feet touched the horse block. “That nail has been rather too much in evidence.”

By the matron’s side a young lady had sat. This fact had been observed by all the guests, before they had turned their heads away, and now that she too had left the carriage, her golden hair and soft hazel eyes were mentally remarked, as also her graceful carriage and elegant tailor-made gown.

The proprietor, lifting one of the hand-satchels, leaving the umbrellas and other small luggage for the porter, led the way to the office.

Then they hastily entered, and a few minutes later walked through the dimly-lighted corridor, for it was not yet dark enough to illuminate.

“I reckon that girl has never been in the woods before,” said the dissatisfied man to his friend. For now, side by side, he and a young fellow about thirty strode slowly up and down, exchanging confidences and chatting in a desultory fashion.

“She does not seem to the manner born, that’s a fact,” said the other, “but she’s an interesting type, and probably an addition to our house party.” He turned an interested face towards his friend and said: “There’s far more the flavor of Narragansett Pier or Bar Harbor about her than of the woods, or she may have come from Saratoga. We’ll not have to wait long to see, or I’m not a correct judge, but her mother may prove a formidable chaperon.”

The mother and daughter, for their relationship was at once identified, some one having accommodatingly referred to the register, and reported information to the others, were not long in reappearing, and the young men, still walking back and forth, were not surprised to discover that their prediction was correct.

“Maud, dear, how shall you exist here?” were the half-petulant words overheard as the mother languidly seated herself.

“It will not be Saratoga, I confess. But isn’t that lake enchanting?” The girl’s face was very fair and bewitchingly amiable.

“Yes, it is pretty. But shall you ever forget our trip to this hotel? Such roads!”

Maud met her mother’s questioning eyes, then noting a middle-aged woman approaching them, with face full of kindly greeting, waited.

“You are strangers,” were this lady’s first words, adding as she reached forth her hand: “I fear you will feel lonely and tired, after the long drive.”

The mother at once extended her hand. Then the lady asked the girl, “Have you ever been in the woods before?”

“Never, and my mother fears I shall not like it. It did seem lonely, the last drive through the pines,” and the sensitive mouth quivered ever so slightly, as she explained. “The drive up was so long, the roads so thickly wooded, and here,” with a half-frightened glance about, as though she feared a fox or a bear would cross the walk before her, “you have only the lake.”

Without a word the lady laughed merrily, but hastily checked herself. “I promise you that if you will only join in our sports you will find that there is much here besides the lake. Though,” coyly scanning her, “the lake has its amusements, fishing, boating. Oh, the gentlemen here will be delighted to introduce you to it.”

Maud’s mother looked both surprised and confused. The lady continued, as though she noted her not. “You will find the camps about the lake quite as entertaining as Saratoga’s Floral FÊte, or indeed any fashionable watering-place amusement.”

“Camps? I don’t quite understand,” Maud’s mother remarked, with a touch of bitterness in her tone, for the darkening wood about, now that night was coming fast, made her slow to relent. It was strange she had chosen to come to such a spot.

“I think one has to visit these camps to understand,” the lady explained. “But you will always find them hospitable, furnishing afternoon tea every day you care to call. And some days there are special fÊtes, full of pleasant surprises, when amusements such as the thimble game and proverbs are played, at which prizes are sometimes offered as an added incentive. Last season the hostess of one of the camps gave a children’s party. There happened to be a few here that year, for children are a rarity in the Adirondacks. Of course their parents, uncles, aunts and cousins came, too. That entertainment has been talked about ever since. The party opened with the wild flower hunt. Small bouquets had been hidden among the balsam boughs, low enough for the little ones to reach; others were behind bushes or rocks. These bouquets were made up of clover, daisies and wild roses. Whichever child found the most wild roses received a prize.

“This amusement was followed by the hunt for Cinderella’s Slipper. The successful one at this game also received a prize. After this, the hostess invited all the children into the balsam-covered lean-to, and told them a story about the old man of Humbug Mountain. Humbug Mountain towers just behind, you notice the tallest mountain over there, don’t you?” and the lady motioned to the left, as they faced the lake.

“Yes, but what has reddened the trees so? Why, mother, did you ever see anything as beautiful?” and while pronouncing the word “beautiful,” Maud’s countenance was full of delight.

“That is the afterglow,” the lady replied, but not waiting for further remark, she continued: “I was telling you about the old man of Humbug Mountain. The hostess explained to the children that sometimes he visited her camp, and when he did so he whistled, and that if he should whistle that afternoon, she would take the children back of the lean-to to see him. At that very moment a whistle clear and shrill was heard, and the children, already enamoured with the story, could scarcely be sufficiently restrained to allow the hostess to proceed. When the laughing, curious children ran behind the lean-to, sure enough, as had been promised, there was an old man. He was standing on a table. It was a dwarf skilfully arranged by two people.”

“Oh that was it?” Maud interrupted, for she had listened intently, and was apparently as eager to discover the identity of the old man of Humbug Mountain, as had been the children of the party, and then she added: “I happen to know about that, for I was part of a dwarf once,” and with a wise little shake of her head explained, “It is arranged by two people.”

“Yes, and is it not capital?”

“Fine, when it is well done,” and Maud who was already feeling at home with her companion, added: “And of course the dwarf from the mountain would be well done.”

“Indeed he was. He told short, witty stories, laughed, danced and capered to the children’s great delight. They would clap their hands for joy. It was a rare sight for the grown-ups to watch the color come and go in their expressive faces, their fluffy curls and tangle of waves and braids tumbling about as the little girls shook with laughter, and some of the boys were even more amusing than the girls, because they looked so earnest, even solemn, in their efforts to find an explanation for the old man. One little chap said he would get his father to carry his rifle now all the time, because they might meet the old man sometimes when he wouldn’t feel as jolly, and what then? In fact he was about certain he had seen the old man one day stealing away behind a big stump, and even some of the children laughed when he explained: ‘It was the very same day, that I almost saw a black bear. I could hear him growl. I tell you I ran! Like as not there was a fox too, or a wild cat?”

“Well, after the dwarf exhibition, there were refreshments at which the children toasted marshmallows and popped corn.”

“Why, after all, Maud,” said her mother, thawing out suddenly, “I fancy you may like it here. There seem to be things going on.”

“Like it,” quoted the lady. “No one ever wants to go home when she once gets a taste of Adirondack life. It is like the hounds following the deer. People take to the woods.”

Suddenly there sounded through the hall the first measures of an orchestra.

“The music has begun, and I must dress,” said Miss Friend-in-Need, noting the questioning glance between mother and daughter. “That music is a signal to-night. A few of us give a part of the Midsummer Night’s Dream this evening, in the parlor, and we are to costume ourselves as far as possible before supper.

“What fun we’ve had getting the affair up! You may not know that it has simply poured here for days and days, but we’ve laughed until we’ve cried at our rehearsals, and so have scarcely been troubled by rain.

“You’ll surely come to the first and last performance of this wonderful company, will you not?” and walking away, the lady looked over her shoulder for an answer. And having won a reply in the affirmative, the lady rapidly hurried to her room.

After supper, as Maud’s mother took her seat, to which she was shown by a young man acting as usher, she noticed the parlor had been lavishly trimmed with boughs of green. There was also a tiny wood adjoining the stage, made of small balsam trees.

“I suppose,” she remarked to her daughter, “they went out between the drops and gathered them.” And then both ladies interestedly noticed the guests, as one after the other, with an air of expectancy, entered.

Programmes were passed and eagerly scanned.

It was indeed a gala night. Had Maud and her mother known the various performers, it would have greatly added to their entertainment, but as it was, they could not help adding their applause to that of the others. Even though Maud was a stranger, the joyous shouts of laughter proved too contagious to be altogether resisted, and indeed before the performance was over, close contact with these merry people made Maud feel as though she was one of them, so quickly does one touch of nature make the whole world kin.

As the programme indicated the different characters, they were carefully read, and many ejaculations were overheard, such as: “Oh, that’s Isabel’s character,” and “Why, Carl Adams will be a sight, he’s such a swell, you know. How did such an exquisite ever consent to humble himself in this way?”

To Maud and her mother, however, all were strangers, with the one exception of the proprietor of the hotel, but they very soon learned the names of the people about them. Besides, as Maud’s mother very truly said, “Without it I am not positive that I could remember who the different ones are in the piece, as it is a long time since I have read the Midsummer Night’s Dream.” Therefore, while waiting for the first scene, they read:

As Maud’s mother inquired when in the seclusion of their own apartments, “Did you really like it so very much?”

Maud answered laughing, “More than I can express.”

The following morning it was a question, “What would be the proper costume for breakfast?”

From one of their windows they had a partial view of the lake, but from the other nothing but tall trees met their eyes. Pines were in abundance, but there was an occasional hemlock, spruce, birch and maple.

“It is summer. Would you think that this white organdy would do?” asked Maud, and the frock, apparently only a cloud of Valenciennes lace, was held towards her mother.

“Do? I am sure I don’t know what is considered correct for such a wilderness, but you might not be warm enough. I fancy it is cold outdoors.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll wear,” said the young lady presently, for she had a wonderful conception of color values, and knew what would look best with her dark eyes, and also what would produce the most fetching effect, should she be able to induce her mother to walk among the trees after breakfast. “I am going to put on my crimson piquÉ, bodice and all,” for she had several waists that could be worn with the same skirt, and as her quick eyes looked over the guests at breakfast, she was not sorry the decision had been against the organdy.

“All night my dreams were of the entertainment,” said Maud, as, sitting opposite her mother, she tried to pour the cream into her coffee. “It is almost too thick to stir. Did you ever see such cream?” she said.

“I never saw thicker. And this trout is delicious. It would be singular indeed if I were won to this place. But, Maud, tell me about your dream, dear.”

“Oh, I dreamed of Titania and Oberon, Queen and King of the fairies, you know. I could see the airy things moving over the green. It was Midsummer-Night’s Dream truly, for I dreamed of the pretty piece, and isn’t this Midsummer?”

“Why, Maud! I fancy you slept well. Perhaps you’ll be surprised to learn that I too dreamed of our evening’s pleasure.”

“Surprised! Yes, indeed!” and Maud’s eyes sought her mother’s. “What part did you dream about?”

“I think it is the opening of the second act, when the fairy replies to Puck,

You remember how it goes, don’t you?”

“Perfectly; and didn’t that fairy look lovely? I am sure I shall be glad to know her. But Puck I am not as sure about.”

“Could you pass me the rolls, Maud?”

“Certainly, take that one,” and Maud turned the plate so that her mother could have a temptingly brown roll.

“And now,” continued her mother, as she contentedly broke the roll open, “tell me more about your dream.”

“You know towards the close, Oberon and Titania entered with their train.”

“Do you mean where Oberon sings,

And so on?”

“Yes, those are the very words. And didn’t Titania have a sweet voice? I hope she’ll sing often. I am sure everybody must enjoy listening to her. I thought this beautiful:

As Maud said, “bless this place,” the lady who had welcomed Maud and her mother the evening before was walking past their table, and having overheard the words, she stopped.

“Just what I like to hear.” Then mischievously looking at Maud’s mother. “But I did not expect the woods to have won so much enthusiasm already, did you?”

“No, I did not,” and the mother’s lip unbent into a sunny smile. “But there is no telling what we may both say yet.”

“This fish breakfast has been delicious, and besides everybody looks rested and cheery.”

“That is just the point; no one can help being rested, because midnight-oil is unknown here and how can people help being cheery, when this bracing air is a tonic; And besides we have so many delightful sports. There are to be charades, and rollicking games, such as Twirl the Platter, and Going to Jerusalem, this evening, and to-day there are several things on hand. One is a driving and riding party. All the young people, with two chaperones, are going over to the next hotel to dinner. By the way, do you ride?”

And Maud, whose face was flushed with the memory of her many pleasant hours on horseback, answered, “I could ride almost forever.”

“Then you are the very young lady we want,” and turning to Maud’s mother, “I’m to be one of the chaperones. I’ll promise to bring her home safe. There is a fine saddle-horse waiting to be ridden, and——a fine young man, who is in despair because every one but himself has a riding companion. He is a New York lawyer. May I introduce him?” were her words, as the trio left the breakfast-room together.

The answer must have been “Yes,” because, an hour later, one dowager said to another, “Did you hear that new girl, that airish creature with the golden hair, and sleepy-looking dark eyes, who came just before supper last evening, has gone off horseback riding with the one we called ‘the dissatisfied young man?’ He seems to be perfectly satisfied now. I suppose neither of our daughters was good enough for him.”