“Next time we will,” replied Faith.

“I don’t see why Ernest couldn’t go back for her now,” said Gladys.  “I’m not used to walking so much and I’m too tired to go myself.”

“You want me to run up the hill after a doll!” asked the boy, laughing.  He began to believe his pretty cousin was very fond of joking.  “Something might happen to her before you saw her,” he added mischievously.

The pond was a charming sheet of water.  Trees lined its edges in summer, and it was a great place for sport in winter.  Faith and Ernest chattered to their cousin of all the coasting and skating, and their bright faces and jolly stories only increased the uncomfortable feeling that Gladys had allowed to slip into her heart.

Her cousins had more fun than she did.  It wasn’t fair.  She had no eyes for the pretty scenery about her, as Ernest’s strong arms sent the boat flying along.  Faith noticed her changed looks and for the first time wondered how it was going to seem to have Gladys to take care of for—­they couldn’t tell how long; but she only tried the harder to bring back the bright look her cousin had worn at dinner time.

In a few minutes Gladys began to rock the boat from side to side.

“Don’t do that, please,” said Ernest.

There was a tone of command in his voice, and the spoiled child only rocked the harder.

“None of that, I tell you, Gladys,” he said sharply.

“Please don’t,” added Faith.

But the error that Gladys had let creep in was enjoying her cousin’s anxiety, and she smiled teasingly as she went on rocking.  She had condescended to come out to the farm, and she would let these country children see if they could order her about.

Ernest said no more, but he promptly turned the boat around and pulled for the shore.

“What are you doing?” asked Gladys.

“Going ashore.”

“I don’t want to,” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing.  “I want to go up there.”  She pointed to a spot in the distance.  “I want to go around that corner and see what there is there.”

“Not to-day,” replied Ernest, pulling sturdily.

We won’t look into Gladys’s heart and see what went on there then, because it is too unpleasant.

“You see we’re the crew,” said Faith, a little scared by her cousin’s flashing eyes and crimson cheeks.  “We have to do what Ernest says.  He knows a lot about boats, Gladys, and it is dangerous to rock.  The pond is real deep.”

“I shall come out in the boat alone, then,” declared Gladys.

“Oh, no, you won’t,” remarked Ernest, smiling.  “People that rock boats need a keeper.”

Faith’s eyes besought him, “I’ll take you out to-morrow if you’ll promise to sit still,” he went on; “but if anything happened to the boat, you see I couldn’t save both of you, and I’d be likely to try to save Faith; so you’d better go ashore now and think it over.”