“Never mind.  I saw that Loftie and Miss Meadowsweet had the breast to eat.  I nearly died when I saw you attacking the drumstick, but I knew you wouldn’t split.  Now, do look up, Kate?  Doesn’t Loftus look radiant?  Isn’t he a handsome fellow when he is pleased?  What can Miss Meadowsweet be saying to him?  How he does laugh!”

“Miss Meadowsweet has a good deal of fun in her,” responded Kate.  “I think it is a certain tone in her voice.  Well, here they come.  How did you like the ruins, Loftus?”

“Very much—­I mean as much as I care for any ruins.  And I have had a capital guide.  Miss Meadowsweet wants to propose something to you girls.”

“Yes,” said Beatrice, in her bright, quick way.  “It will be so nice if you can do it.  Captain Bertram says he is fond of tennis, and we have four very good courts at home.  Will you all come and have supper this evening?  Mother will be delighted to see you—­Do come, Miss Bertram.”

She looked sympathetically and eagerly at Catherine.  Catherine in her shabby, ill-fitting dress was not nearly such a distinguished figure as Miss Meadowsweet, whose serge costume fitted her like a glove.  Yet Catherine drew herself up as if the invitation half offended her.

“I?” she began.  She looked at Loftus.  Her color came and went.

“Catherine is overpowered,” remarked the brother, with a smile at Miss Meadowsweet, but a certain expression about his mouth which Kate too well interpreted.  “Catherine is overpowered.  She and this little woman,” taking Mabel’s hand, “have had very few invitations lately.  Never mind, Kate, I’ll support you, and if we hurry home now, you can polish up your rusty tennis powers at Rosendale.  We must make a proper court there, Miss Meadowsweet.  In the meantime, we are all delighted to accept your kind invitation.”

“Be with us at seven,” said Beatrice.  “Mother doesn’t like supper to be later than half-past-eight, but if you are with us by seven we shall have time for a good game first.  And now, I think I must go home, or my mother will wonder what has become of me.”

Mabel picked up the luncheon basket.  Loftus flung the rugs over his shoulder, and the four young people went down to the boats.

Loftus and Mabel lingered a little behind.  Catherine and Beatrice led the way.

“You don’t want to come to-night,” suddenly said Beatrice to her companion.

Catherine started and colored.

“Why do you say that?  I—­I am glad to come.”

“Don’t come if you don’t want to.  I shall understand.”

They had reached the boats.  The Bertrams seated themselves in their own.  Miss Meadowsweet advised them not to put up the sail, but thought if she kept within easy distance, they might manage the oars.  Loftus and Mabel rowed.  Kate sat in the stern and steered.  Beatrice Meadowsweet applauded, and rowed her own boat with skill.  She reached the shore before them, and called out in her clear voice: