“I wonder where the boy is?” thought Peggy; “he and that New York girl were nice.”  She glanced over her shoulder at this thought.  There was the boy; and—­yes, he was standing at the office desk, carefully examining the hotel register.  “He’s looking for our names!” flashed into Peggy’s mind, “and those girls set him up to it.  I wonder what they’ll say to ‘Mrs. Smith and niece’?  I know; they’ll say, or the girl they call Agnes will say, ’Smith, of course!  I knew they had some such common name as that.’”

Something very like this comment did take place when Master Will, in obedience to Dora Robson’s request, brought the information that the people at the corner table were Mrs. Smith and her niece.  But if Peggy could only have heard Will flash out upon this comment the further information that very distinguished people had borne the name of Smith,—­could have heard him quote the famous English clergyman Sydney Smith, whose wit and humor were so charming,—­if Peggy could have heard Will going on in this fashion, she would have thought he was very nice indeed, and been quite delighted with his independent outspokenness.

Agnes, however, was anything but delighted.  She was, in fact, very angry with Will by this time, and what she called his meddlesome, domineering airs, and quite determined to let him know at the very first opportunity that she was not in the least to be influenced by his opinions.

The opportunity presented itself sooner than she expected.  It was just after luncheon, and a couple of Indians had come up from their neighboring summer camp with a load of baskets for sale.

Dora and Tilly, with Mrs. Brendon and Agnes and Amy, went out to them at once.  Others soon followed, and a brisk bargaining began.  When the Indian woman held up a beautiful little basket skilfully woven to imitate shells, there was a general exclamation of pleasure, and one voice cried out with enthusiasm, “Oh, how lovely!” and the owner of the voice reached forth to take the basket in her hand.  Agnes Brendon, turning quickly, saw that it was Mrs. Smith’s niece.

“The idea of that girl pushing herself forward like this!” was Agnes’s whispered remark to Amy.

“Hush:  she’ll hear you,” whispered back Amy.

“I don’t care,” answered Agnes, at the same time crowding herself to the front and inquiring the price of the basket, with the determination to get possession of it before any one else had a chance.  But when the price—­two dollars—­was named, Mrs. Brendon pronounced it exorbitant, and offered half the sum, never doubting its acceptance.  The Indian woman, however, shook her head with an air of grim decision; and at that very moment, catching sight of Mrs. Smith and her niece, she nodded smilingly, repeated the price, and held the basket up again;

“Yes, yes, I’ll take it,” called out Peggy, nodding and smiling responsively; and the next instant the basket was in her hands.