Early the wild ducks returned. Other birds came in due season, and the bird classes began their yearly prowlings. The Greycliff Bird Club prospered. Never had they had such lists, which they had started with the winter birds, and under the generalship of Dr. Norris, there was little that they missed. Tennis, rowing and riding were popular and engaged in when the girls had time. Miss Randolph tried to curb the modern tendency to let athletics seize the place and dominate the interests. Nor was any one girl permitted to take part in everything and waste her time in too many forms of the physical activities. But each had enough to keep her healthy and happy.

One Saturday morning Dr. Norris took the bird class out for a field trip. According to Isabel, a “field trip” need not have anything to do with fields. “We may even go up the river in a boat,” said she, “but it’s a field trip, just the same.” Virginia, now chiefly called Virgie, had joined the enthusiasts and had a field glass of her father’s, which was very good indeed, much better than some which were of more modern form and more expensive, for these were fine lenses.

“Now if you girls do not mind climbing over the rocks,” said Dr. Norris, “there is an easy, or fairly easy, ascent to the woods on the edge of the bluff above, and we shall save a long detour and an almost impossible tramp through the woods toward the lake.”

They were starting for the shore, and Betty and Isabel looked at each other as the girls called out, “We don’t mind rocks a bit, Dr. Norris.” The class was divided into two groups, one with Dr. Norris, the other with “Paul Revere,” more properly known as Dr. Matthews. Betty, Isabel, Hilary, Lilian and Cathalina were in the group with Dr. Norris.

“When we get up into the woods,” said Dr. Norris, “you may scatter along the bluff, though not too far, but do not attempt to penetrate the woods except when I am in the lead. We ought to see wood warblers in numbers this morning, and perhaps some birds that are too wild to come to our campus.”

It was the rocky way toward the cave which they took, but they passed it, looking very uninteresting in the gray, early morning light, still misty from the lake. Some little distance beyond the ledge and cave was an irregular ascent, not easy to climb, but far from impossible, and what bird class minds a little trouble, when perhaps a dozen of the migrants as yet unseen will be flitting in their dainty spring costumes among the trees? And there they were, the beautiful black-throated warbler with its shining coat and excuse of a voice; the bay-breasted, and the orange-trimmed Blackburnian warblers. Shy thrushes slipped away in front of them and hid behind branches and leaves. Hilary was stealing away alone to follow a blue-headed vireo of whose identification she wanted to make sure. She kept to the edge of the woods along the cliff, according to directions, and was somewhat surprised to come upon a low, one-roomed house or hut of rocks or stone from the cliffs. She stopped and whistled a tune of the wood thrush, the call note of the Greycliff bird club. It meant, “come softly and see something.”

Lilian, who was not far away appeared, then Betty and Isabel came, parting the branches of the thick growth and creeping up quietly. Hilary made motions which might have made one outside of the bird atmosphere think that she was a fit subject for a brain specialist. She pointed up to where she had just located and identified the bird, then to the building, and described, as if drawing in the air, an interrogation mark.

Isabel the brave made an immediate choice between bird and hut, softly making her way up and trying to peer through the high window, which was curtained with a dark curtain or shade. All around the little stone hut she walked, slipping through the bushes, and trying the door which she found locked. “Nobody at home,” she said to Betty, who had come up. Then she crept out on the edge of the bluff and looked over. “As I thought,” she said, nodding, “just over the ledge of the cave.”

“That is queer,” said Betty, “I think some smugglers must have lived here, don’t you?”

“It looks like it. Perhaps this was only a sort of storehouse.”

Doctor Norris had drawn near, investigating the source of the whistle, and Hilary was now pointing out the little house to him. “We might as well tell him the funny history of the cave, Betty,” said Isabel, as they joined the rest.

“All right, I told Donald, and he promised to keep still about it, but to keep his eyes open, too.”

“Doctor Norris, that is a funny cave,” began Isabel, “and I find that this stone house is right above it. Let me tell you what we girls all saw, and what Betty and I did.”

Dr. Norris was interested enough to let the bird instruction and observation wait till he had heard what there was to tell. “It does seem odd,” said he. “I can’t think what Holley would be doing there. But he seems to be a fine fellow. Dr. Schafer has known him for a long time, and Dr. Carver likes him very much.”

“Her liking him wouldn’t be any recommendation to me,” whispered Isabel to Betty.

“Had you ever seen this hut before?” asked Lilian.

“No; I only found this place to climb up a day or two ago, when I was looking for places to take you.”

“I wish we could get inside,” said Isabel.

“Could you see anything through the windows?”

“Not a thing, and there is only one door.”

“Well, keep away from the place and I will make some quiet inquiry.”

“We are not permitted to come this far without some chaperone now,” Hilary informed him.

“Very good,” said Dr. Norris.

But not very soon was the purpose of this little building discovered. Perhaps it might have been, if any one had taken it up seriously. But both girls and teachers at Greycliff had their hands full with their daily tasks and the different occasions of importance that marked the year.

The time of the recital came all too soon, according to the performers, who, if the truth were told, never would be quite ready. Much was made of it by the faculty and the program was conducted with a graceful formality. The girls wore their best frocks and fluttered about in a state of excitement. Lilian in a pink dress that matched her cheeks, and Eloise in a creamy, lacy frock, were both on the program in song, and, as they said, were now able to remain friends. Lilian, alas, as she had feared, was obliged to appear with her violin. But as she was waiting for the announcement which would call her to the platform, she was amazed, so she told Hilary afterward, to hear her teacher tell one of the other teachers that “Mees North” was one of the most intelligent pupils he had. “She have the gift,” he added. Hearing this, Lilian determined to do her best for him, and was nerved to put a little more expression into her playing than she would have done, perhaps, without that encouragement.

Hilary drew much interest with a difficult composition on the pipe organ. The recitals were always held in the chapel in order to have this instrument.

The Girls’ Glee Club sang, and the Collegiate Orchestra, with violins, cellos and harp, played the sort of dreamy, rippling music that Lilian loved. “I hope that I can play in that next year,” said she. “Miss Randolph may let the girls give a concert or two next year, here in the village, anyway.”

The recital closed with the playing of a concerto by one of the collegiate girls, with her teacher at the other piano. This was well done and made an impressive ending to the evening which meant so much in work and attainment.

But the entertainment to which the girls probably looked forward with most anticipation was that of the lawn fete. It was a yearly “benefit” to some Greycliff enterprise, which varied from year to year. The military school, the village and any friends near or far were invited. Not much money was expected, to result, only some small return to be applied to the grounds, the buildings, one of the departments, or whatever happened to be the chief interest of the year. At this, the young gentlemen were permitted to invite the young ladies and buy for them ice cream, cake or other of the light refreshments offered. A candy booth on the front lawn was always a great attraction. In case of rain all could retire to the dining room, but it never rained, according to the Greycliff girls.

One day a square, white envelope to “Miss Cathalina Van Buskirk, Greycliff Hall,” came in the mail. Cathalina and Betty were in the crowd which always gathered around the “post-office,” as they called it, where the mail was given out. Cathalina at once started off with it, but Betty begged her to wait for her till the mail was distributed. “I’m looking for a letter from home,” she said, with twinkling eyes. Cathalina understood and smiled as she moved off a little from the rest and opened her note.

Nothing, alas, for Betty, no pretty white invitation, for all the girls recognize the military school stationery and there were a number of such notes in the mail today. Betty was wondering if Donald would ask her to be his guest at the lawn fete, or if possibly he was asking some other girl. Dorothy Appleton would know, but naturally Betty would not ask any one. The girls were just as friendly to Dorothy as ever, but could not help but feel that Dorothy and Jane had refused their closer intimacy, and Myrtle Wiseman was constantly with both Dorothy and Jane.

“It’s Captain Van Horne, Betty,” said Cathalina, as Betty joined her. She handed Betty the invitation.

“Isn’t it nice! Very grown up, written in the third person and all.”

“I feel very much flattered that a young man who knows as much as he does should think it was interesting to call on me. What shall I wear, Betty?”

“Your newest, prettiest summer frock.”

“Mother is sending me some clothes for Commencement. They ought to be here in a day or two.”

The next mail brought Betty’s invitation from Donald Hilton. The other girls, too, were invited by different ones. Lilian, Hilary, Eloise, Helen, Juliet, Pauline and others were planning for a happy evening. Isabel had had a fine time at the ice carnival with a young cadet as full of life and fun as she, and was quite overwhelmed at receiving her formal invitation from him. “My sakes, Cathalina, how do you make up a reply? I suppose you have to answer ’em.”

Cathalina showed her her own reply to Captain Van Horne, which Isabel duly copied, as closely as possible. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I should forget and write in ‘Captain Van Horne’ and sign your name?”

“Indeed it wouldn’t be funny at all! You’re not to make any such mistake, Miss Hunt. Let me look over your note before you send it, then.”

“All right, Cathie; I was going to ask you to anyway.”