“Then I don’t think it is a pic-nic.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know.  Daisy, are you going to ride in that queer chair?”

“I suppose so.  My ankle isn’t quite strong yet, you know.  Wasn’t it nice of Dr. Sandford to prepare it for me?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think he is nice,” said Nora.

Which expression of opinion was so very startling to Daisy that it took her some time to recover from it.  She sought out the doctor with her eye where he was sitting forward of the mast, somewhat hid from her by a piece of the sail; she scanned his countenance, with its calm nobleness of feature, and steadfast, reserved, beautiful blue eye.  Doubtless, he was not everything Daisy wished him; nevertheless to her he was very “nice” indeed.  Her eye came back satisfied.

At the other end of the boat the party were talkative and gay.  Mr. Randolph held the main sheet in his own hand; Mr. Sandford had the rudder; neither of them had much to do; for the wind was gentle and fair, and the boat kept her straight course for the opposite shore.  The river was wide however at this place; the other shore was an object in view for a good while before they reached it.  Slowly and steadily the little skiff skimmed over; they got to the middle of the river; then the trees before them on the other side, with the cleared fields in one or two spots, began to shew in more distinct forms and colours.  The sun was very hot!  So hot, that it seemed to kill the breeze.  As they drew near their place of disembarkation, the motion of the vessel grew slack; the sail fluttered now and then; the propelling force just lasted till they got to shore, and then nobody said anything more of any air felt to be stirring.

“I think we had better stay on the water,” said Mrs. Gary.  “It is positively stifling here.”

“It will be better when we get in the woods,” suggested Mr. Sandford.

“No,—­begging your pardon,” Mr. Randolph answered.

“No?—­will it be worse, Mr. Randolph?” said his wife.

“I hope not—­for I think you could broil a beefsteak here in another hour; when the sun gets on the meridian.”

“Then do let us move away from here at once! it is oppressive.  I do not know how we are going to walk, but I suppose we shall find out.  We may hope there will be a little freshness by the lake.”

Mr. Stanfield’s boat however had to be waited for a few minutes.  It got to shore just as Mr. Fish’s skiff appeared in sight coasting down on the same side, from behind a point.  The whole party were soon together, exchanging shakes of the hand and puffs of condolence on the state of the atmosphere.  There was presently a division of forces.  All the boys, Preston, Ransom, and Alexander Fish, compared notes and fishing tackle.  The ladies and gentlemen, with one or two elder girls, Frederica Fish and Theresa Stanfield and Eloise Gary, congregated into a moving