“It’s pretty, aint it, Winthrop?” said Asahel.

“Yes.”

“I wonder what’s the reason you row so much better than Rufus —­ Rufus bites his lip, and works so, and makes such a splash, —­ and you don’t seem as if you worked at all.”

“Perhaps because I am stronger,” said Winthrop.

“Rufus is strong enough.  But that can’t be the reason you do everything better than he does.”

“That don’t happen to be the state of the case.”

“Yes it does; for you always catch the most fish, and papa said last summer he never saw any one bind and tie as fast as you did.”

Again silently the boat fell down along the shore, a little dark speck amidst the glow of air and water.

“How nice you look in your white jacket and trousers,” said Asahel.

“I am glad to hear it,” said Winthrop laughing.  “Is it such an uncommon thing?”

“It is uncommon for you to look so nice.  You must take great care of them, Winthrop; —­ it took mother so long to make them.”

“I have another pair, boy,” said Winthrop, biting his lips, as the boat rounded to the little flight of steps at Cowslip’s mill.

“Yes, but then you know, Karen —­ There’s the stage, Governor! —­ and the folks are come, I guess.  Do you see those heads poking out of the windows?” —­

“You stay here and mind the boat, Asahel.”

And Winthrop sprang ashore and went up to the crossing where the stage-coach had stopped.

At ‘Cowslip’s mill’ there was a sloop landing; a sort of wharf was built there; and close upon the wharf the mill and storage house kept and owned by Mr. Cowslip.  From this central point a road ran back over the hills into the country, and at a little distance it was cut by the high road from Vantassel.  Here the stage had stopped.

By the time Winthrop got there, most of the effects he was to take charge of had been safely deposited on the ground.  Two young ladies, and a gentleman seeming not far from young, stood at the end of the coach to watch the success of the driver and Mr. Cowslip in disinterring sundry trunks and boxes from under the boot and a load of other trunks and boxes.

“Where’s Mr. Landholm? isn’t Mr. Landholm here?” said the gentleman impatiently.

“There’s somebody from Mr. Landholm ahint you,” remarked Mr. Cowslip in the course of tugging out one of the trunks.

The gentleman turned.

“Mr. Landholm could not be here, sir,” said Winthrop; “but his boat is here, and he has sent me to take care of it.”

“He has!  Couldn’t come himself, eh?  I’m sorry for that. —­ The box from the top of the stage, driver —­ that’s all. —­ Do you understand the management of a boat?” said he eyeing Winthrop a little anxiously.

“Certainly, sir,” said Winthrop.  “I am accustomed to act as Mr. Landholm’s boatman.  I am his son.”

“His son, are you!  Ah well, that makes all straight.  I can trust you.  Not his eldest son?”