“I’ll go along with you to make sure you don’t drown yourself; but I think you’re getting big enough to do your own rowing.  I’m not as young as I was, Miss Midget, and I’m chock-full of rheumatism.”

“Oh, we’d just as lieve row, Carter; King’s fine at it, and I can row pretty well myself.”

But Kitty said:  “I’m sorry you have rheumatism, Carter; I’ll ask Mother to give you something for it.”

“Now that’s kind and thoughtful of you, Miss Kitty.  Miss Mischief, here, would never think of that!” But, as Carter spoke, his eyes rested lovingly on Marjorie’s merry face.

“That’s so, Carter,” she said, a little penitently, “but do you know, I think if you did take us rowing, it would limber up your arms so you wouldn’t have rheumatism!”

“Maybe that’s so, Miss Mischief,—­maybe that’s so.  Anyway, I’ll try both plans, and perhaps it’ll help some.  But I hear Eliza calling you, so you’d all better skip back to the house.  It’s nearly supper time.”

With a series of wild whoops, which were supposed to be indicative of the general joy of living, the three Maynards joined hands, with Kitty in the middle, and raced madly back to the house.

They all tried to squeeze through the back door at once, which proceeding resulted in an athletic scrimmage, and a final burst of kicking humanity into Eliza’s kitchen.

“Howly saints! but ye’re the noisy bunch!” was Eliza’s greeting, and then she bade them hurry upstairs and tidy themselves for supper.

CHAPTER VII

AN EARLY ESCAPADE

Marjorie and Kitty occupied the room that had been Marjorie’s the summer before.  Another little white bed had been put up, and as the room was large, the girls were in no way crowded.

Kitty admired the beautiful room, but in her quiet way, by no means making such demonstrations of delight as Marjorie had when she first saw it.  Also Kitty felt a sort of possession, as she would return later and occupy the room for the whole summer.

“Lots of these things on the shelf, Midget, I shall have taken away,” she said, as the girls were preparing for bed that same night; “for they’re your things, and I don’t care about them, and I want to make room for my own.”

“All right, Kit, but don’t bother about them now.  When you come back in June, put them all in a big box and have them put up in the attic until I come again.  I only hope you’ll have as good a time here as I had last summer.  Molly Moss and Stella Martin are nearer my age than yours, but you’ll like them, I know.”

“Oh, I know Molly, but I don’t remember Stella.”

“You’ll prob’ly like Stella best, though, ’cause she’s so quiet and sensible like you.  Molly’s a scalawag, like me.”

“All right,” said Kitty, sleepily, for she was too tired to discuss the neighbors, and very soon the two girls were sound asleep.