LITMIR.BIZ

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older people, who were preparing the food for the supper on the little island that night. Jane was helping Clifford Hunter paint pieces of wood which were intended to transform his launch into an auto-giro, and David McCall and Mary Louise picked flowers and leaves all afternoon to make festoons for her canoe.

      “I do think Freckles and those other kids might have helped us,” she remarked as she tied on the last cluster of sunflowers.

      “Oh, we didn’t need them,” returned David, smiling. He had enjoyed having Mary Louise to himself all afternoon.

      “It’s five o’clock now. We’ll have to hurry and wash and dress. Don’t forget supper at Flicks’ is half-past tonight.”

      The young man nodded. “I’ll be ready, Mary Lou.”

      Mrs. Gay’s voice interrupted them from the inside of the bungalow.

      “Has anybody seen Freckles?” she called.

      “Not since this morning,” replied her daughter. “I tried to get him to help us, but he said he was off for the day with his gang.”

      “Yes, I know that. I gave him some lunch. But he ought to be home by now.”

      “He’ll probably be along in a minute.”

      But he did not come. David went back to the inn, and Mrs. Gay and the two girls dressed for the picnic, but still Freckles did not appear.

      “We can’t go off and leave him without any supper,” said Mrs. Gay. “Because Mrs. Flick is going to close the dining room and lock up at six-thirty.”

      “If we could only phone the Smiths,” sighed Mary Louise. “He’s probably over there with the boys… Suppose Jane and I run over?”

      “It’s too far. It will make you late for supper.”

      “Not very late. We’ll hurry. Come on, Jane. We’ll be back in ten minutes. But you go on down to the inn, Mother, and order the dinner.”

      Mrs. Gay nodded, immensely relieved. What a comfort Mary Louise was! You never had to ask her to do anything for you.

      The two girls hurried away along the private road beside the river, past the Flicks’ and the Robinsons’, then turned up the hill to the Smiths’ house beyond. It was Jane’s first sight of the imposing-looking place at close range. She exclaimed in admiration.

      “What a marvelous house! They must be awfully rich!”

      “They are,” replied Mary Louise. “But they don’t appreciate this place a bit. Mr. and Mrs. Smith are hardly ever here at all in the summer. Those two boys just run wild. There’s a nurse to look after the little girl – she’s only four years old – but the boys do pretty much as they please and boss the servants around. That’s why Mother and I feel worried about Freckles when he’s with them.”

      A sedate-looking butler answered the girls’ ring at the door.

      “No, miss,” was his reply to Mary Louise’s question, “the boys haven’t been here all day.”

      “Did they expect to go to the picnic tonight on the island?”

      “Yes, miss. Steve, the chauffeur, was to take them.”

      Mary Louise sighed. There was nothing she could do.

      “Well, if my brother comes back here, will you please send him right over to the inn?” she asked. “And tell him to hurry.”

      The girls turned away and started back. “It’s going to spoil Mother’s evening,” remarked Mary Louise disconsolately.

      “Oh, he’ll be sure to turn up soon,” returned Jane reassuringly.

      “I know, but even if he does, he won’t be able to get to the island. All the boats at Shady Nook are being used. Even the rowboats. Everybody’s going except the Ditmars.”

      “Poor Adelaide Ditmar!” sighed Jane. “Imagine missing all that fun just because of a grouchy husband! I’m glad I’m single.”

      Mary Louise laughed.

      “All men aren’t alike, Jane. You know Cliff Hunter would never miss any fun. Or Max or Norman,” she added, mentioning their two best friends in Riverside.

      Mrs. Gay looked up hopefully as the girls entered the inn, but her expression changed immediately. She could tell from their faces that they had not been successful.

      After supper was over, all was bustle and excitement as the people got into the boats and pushed them out into the river. There were six canoes, four rowboats, and three motorboats, all decorated beautifully or fantastically, according to the taste of the owners. Three prizes were to be awarded for the cleverest boat of each type, and everybody was to vote on the style in which he or she was not competing. Mary Louise and David McCall stepped into their flower-covered canoe; Mrs. Gay joined the Partridges in a rowboat, and Jane waited for Cliff Hunter’s motorboat to come puffing across the river. It arrived at the same time as the Fraziers’ rather seedy launch, and Jane was introduced to them and to Mrs. Hunter.

      “You’ll walk away with the motorboat prize, Cliff,” called Mary Louise to the young man at the wheel. She lowered her voice. “Poor old Frazier’s launch is pathetic, and Stuart Robinson’s is just funny!”

      “I hope the prize is a deck of cards,” returned Cliff. “Mine are wearing out.”

      Mary Louise laughed and dipped her paddle into the water. Her canoe did look pretty, and it was a heavenly night. If only Freckles were there!

      The boats began to move off, the launches puffing ahead, the canoes gliding gently behind them, and the rowboats progressing more ponderously. Somebody began to play a ukulele, and gay voices took up the tune.

      The island, a small oblong strip of land, was situated about two miles down the river from Shady Nook. Several years ago someone at the resort had discovered it, and everybody had taken a hand at fixing it up for picnic purposes. There was a glorious stone fireplace, and a large spot had been cleared for dancing and games. Seats had been scattered about, and a couple of board tables had been erected near the fireplace. Tonight the whole island was alight with Japanese lanterns, giving it a gay and festive air.

      When the last rowboat had finally reached its destination, the crowd all gathered together on the grass near the shore to record their votes. The two Robinson boys went about collecting them.

      Mary Louise was sitting close to her mother, watching her intently.

      “The Reed boys aren’t here either,” whispered Mrs. Gay. “I was just talking to Mrs. Reed, and she said she hasn’t seen Larry or George since morning. But she doesn’t seem much worried.”

      “Freckles must be all right if he’s with the whole bunch,” Mary Louise assured her. “Nothing much could happen to five boys together.”

      Mrs. Gay forced herself to smile.

      “I’ll try not to worry, dear… Oh, listen! Mr. Robinson is going to announce the winners!”

      The jovial-faced man, Stuart’s father, stepped forward.

      “First prize for rowboats goes to Sue and Mabel Reed,” he said. “Come forward, girls, and get your prize. It’s a box of tennis balls.”

      The twins, dressed exactly alike in blue dimity, came up together, bowing and expressing their thanks.

      “The prize for canoes – to Mary Louise Gay,” continued Mr. Robinson. “More tennis balls!”

      David McCall clapped loudly, and everybody else joined in the applause. Mary Louise was a general favorite at Shady Nook.

      “The prize for motorboats goes to my son Stuart for his funny-looking contraption!”

      Everybody clapped but Jane; she was terribly disappointed. She didn’t see why Cliff’s clever idea hadn’t taken the honors. But glancing at the young man she could detect no resentment in his face. He was a wonderful sport.

      After the prizes had been disposed of, the games began, and continued until dark. Almost

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