“O, dear! It’s going to rain today, Eloise, look at the fog!”

“That doesn’t mean anything up here, Isabel.”

“But it was so cloudy last night, too. If anything happens to spoil the picnic I’ll be mad.”

“Nothing will,” contributed Frances. “If it storms, they’ll wait till the storm is over and then come. And if it keeps on raining, we can have fun in the club house and the dining room. But I don’t think that it will rain.”

“I want to see what happens on a picnic when the boys are here,” said Isabel. “When do they come?”

“Right after rest hour, probably. They have to get ready, of course, and the Aeolus won’t leave here till after dinner.”

“Why the Aeolus?”

“There are so many boys that the big boat will go after them.”

“And what do we do?”

“The program will be announced at breakfast or dinner, I think. Probably there will be some games, different things to make us get acquainted. We are supposed to be the hostesses and will show the boys around the grounds if they want us to, but I imagine that the little boys will want to tear around by themselves. The older boys will pay more attention to us, though. They will all be very polite and appreciative, for their head councillor is quite particular about their manners.”

It was almost three o’clock when the boats appeared from Boothbay Camp. The day had cleared, though occasional clouds obscured the afternoon sun. The Aeolus came gliding in, full of boys of all sizes, with their councillors. Many of them wore white duck in honor of the occasion. Others were in the usual camp uniform. Standing in or on the Aeolus, they hailed Merrymeeting, first with the Boothbay, then with the Merrymeeting yell, and were answered by such girls as happened to be about, for the place of reception was at the club house.

Cathalina was watching for Philip and Campbell, whom she intended to have a delightful time if she could manage it, and proud she was to introduce them to all the interesting girls. Campbell, in turn, introduced the other councillors and other boys, and the picnic was well started. The younger boys and girls had a hare and hounds chase, which was somewhat strenuous for the boys in white duck, but they came out of it in good humor, if a little warm and disheveled.

“They shall have their heart’s desire, the dears,” thought Cathalina, as she stood apart for a moment and looked at the chatting, laughing company. It was not hard to manage it, for Campbell never got very far from Hilary, and Phil was usually where he could quickly reach Lilian.

“Pardon me, Philip, I want Lilian to take you around a little and show you Marshmallow Point and the pine grove, and, Hilary, will you take Campbell? There is Sunset Rock, too, and the lane. The boys must see all the places we rave about. I’ll join you later.” Cathalina had seen to it that neither Hilary nor Lilian had planned to take part in any of the games that were arranged for, and had frankly told them why. “I want you to be free to entertain Campbell and Philip. The other girls and I will help with the rest.”

Neither Lilian nor Hilary, then, were surprised or embarrassed, and the four strolled first down to Marshmallow Point, properly called Chopp’s Point, where they viewed the remains of many a camp fire and sat on the rocks to talk of their schools, the camps, and many other interests both serious and amusing. But when they topped the hill again, Lilian and Philip turned toward the pine grove, while Hilary and Campbell walked on past the club house to the little road and Sunset Rock. No explanation seemed necessary.

“This is where we find the cranberry plants,” Hilary was saying, as she stooped to pick a bit of the vine with an unripe cranberry on it. “Our prettiest blueberries are near Sunset Rock.”

“Where is that?” asked Campbell.

“Up this way.”

Lilian was just pointing out the pine grove to Philip and they had turned to go there when they looked back to see Hilary and Campbell turning the other way, but looking back to wave friendly hands.

“There are the most beautiful rocks of all in the pine grove, Philip, and along the shore of Merrymeeting Bay.”

Down the narrow trail they walked into the grove, Lilian leading. Little blueberry bushes, prickly juniper, bright green moss, sprawling arborvitÆ, tall sweet ferns and other greenery lined the way. Then they reached the thick carpet of pine needles and climbed down a natural stairway, none too regular, made of pine roots padded with moss and brown pine needles.

“This is the way to the swimming cove,” said Lilian, pointing to the rocks and the water, which appeared through the trees. “The hunters’ cabin is on in that direction, a short walk. Would you like to go on there?”

“I’d rather sit out on the rocks, I believe, and talk to you while I have the chance,” replied Philip quickly, “but wherever you want to go, I’ll be glad to tag along.”

“I’d rather visit, too, Philip,” responded Lilian pleasantly, as she looked about for the best location. “Let’s climb back up to my favorite rock. We’ll be close at hand if the girls want us, and by ourselves if many of the folks come down to the grove.”

Lilian’s sweater made a comfortable cushion for both as perched upon the firm old Maine rock they began to talk to each other of their dreams and ambitions. It was just as engrossing as it had been upon their ride from Rochester to Buffalo. While they talked, the bell rang for swimming.

“They are back from the hare and hounds chase and that is the call for swimming; do you want to go, Philip?”

“No; do you?”

“Not a bit; Tell me some more about your pipe organ lessons. Which do you like best, organ or piano? I suppose piano is easier.”

“My old organ teacher and I quarrel every once in a while about that. He began with piano, too, and likes it, of course, but says that anybody who gives pipe organ study a fair trial likes it better, so many more effects and so on, and so much power in the organ. But I hold out for piano still, though I thoroughly enjoy the pipe organ work and do not find it so hard because of having played piano so long. One reads music, you know, and has the fingering of keys and the idea of expression and all.”

“Have you had harmony and counterpoint?”

“Yes; have you?”

“No, but I must, because I try to make up little songs and do not know whether the accompaniments are right or not. O, dear, I’ll never catch up to you!”

Philip’s face showed how little he thought Lilian needed anything more to make her perfect, as he replied, “You are way beyond me, I’m afraid. Let me help you with accompaniment. I’d love to try it! Send me the melody and words and what idea of accompaniment you have, whatever you have written, and I will see if you have broken any of the rules at least, and if you want me to, I’ll perhaps suggest some chords that would be good.”

“O, that will be wonderful!” Lilian clasped her hands in delight. “But wouldn’t it bother you too much? You will be so busy with your own work.”

“I’d consider it a privilege.”

“Well, you are nice!” But something in Philip’s tone made Lilian hurry on to say, “I have always wanted to be a singer, Philip, but Mother says it’s an awful life. She says that I can have the lessons and sing without being a concert singer. But still sometimes I think I would like to try it.”

“I’m very fond of music, you know,” replied Philip, “but Father needs me in the business, and I like his line, too. I want a regular job. I think every man ought to have one, and as I don’t care to be a public performer or a music teacher, I think I’ll just keep it for recreation, boring my family with occasional practice and much private enjoyment of my own.”

“From what Cathalina says, I judge that your family is never bored.”

“They do seem to stand it, but they are a long-suffering lot. And lately,” Philip’s face sobered, and he twirled the sweet fern that he held, “I’ve been planning for a musical wife, that is ... she’s pretty young now ... if I get home from war to ask her.”

Lilian’s heart tried to turn over, but did not succeed, and as he spoke of the war she looked at him quickly,—“O, Phil!”

“We are bound to get into it, Father thinks, and says that when we do get in I may go, not before. Campbell and I and most of our friends are making our plans accordingly.”

Silence for a few moments. Lilian played with a sprig of blueberries, which Philip had picked for her, and Philip still twirled the bit of sweet fern.

“Say Lilian, would you mind writing to me?”

“I’d love to, Philip.”

“Right along, I mean, not just once in a while. I’d like to tell you things, and know what you are doing all the time and where you are.”

Philip spoke so earnestly that Lilian almost gasped. Matters were moving rapidly in this new friendship.

“You see you’re,—well, you’re different. I never met a girl like you. You’re so sweet, you know!” and Philip put his long brown fingers for just a moment over the little tanned hand on the rock.

Lilian’s blue eyes met Phil’s dark ones and fell before them, while Philip watched a sweet, serious face surrounded by a bright halo of hair on which the afternoon sun was shining.

“Here come Cathalina and Eloise, Philip,” and Lilian waved a hand to the approaching girls.

“It’s about time for the supper, Lilian,” said Cathalina, “and I thought we’d better look up you folks. Supper is half an hour earlier, you know, and I wasn’t sure that you knew it. Whoo-oo, everybody!”

Cathalina raised her voice a little and repeated her announcement of “almost supper-time”, that a group of boys and girls down on the cove rocks might hear her. “Where are Hilary and Campbell, Lilian?”

“They started to walk down the lane to Sunset Rock, to see birds, I guess.”

“Yes, to see birds,” laughed Cathalina, as she and Eloise ran back along the winding path. “I feel as if I were an entertainment committee, don’t you, Elo’?”

“Yes, indeed, with young councillors and boys and girls to meet and introduce. I hope that everybody has been having a good time.”

“I know that Phil and Campbell are! And there aren’t any lonesome looking youngsters hanging around anyhow. Everybody has had something to do or somebody to talk to.”

For the cafeteria supper, the “bread line” was arranged with the purpose of making it easy for the boys and girls to be grouped together while eating their supper. First a girl, then a boy, they filed into the dining-room, past the tables which had been arranged cafeteria fashion, the girls’ young councillors serving. Then out by the other door went the long line, carrying their suppers to be eaten upon the green. “Seconds” were permitted, except for ice cream and cake. The quick disappearance of supplies and the merry conversation among the picnickers indicated a good time. After the councillors had had their picnic lunch and the tables were moved back, music and games occupied the company till time for leave-taking.

“I shall be up tomorrow, if nothing happens,” said Philip to the girls. “And if Campbell can get away I’ll try to drag him along.”

“Yes; ‘try to drag me along’ is good!” said Campbell. “If he does not select a time when I can get away there will be trouble.”

“How soon must you leave, Philip?” asked Cathalina.

“Tomorrow evening. If you have anything to send home, have it ready when I come up. Good-bye, everybody. We have had a wonderful time.”

With parting gestures and camp yells, the manly crew boarded their boats and took their departure.