Then ensued the long drive home.  The air was chill but exhilarating, and we sung and told ghost stories, and were astonished, when at last we dashed through a white gate, to find ourselves at home once more.  It was ten o’clock the next morning before we were all assembled at the breakfast-table, and we had scarcely risen from our last cups of coffee, when a couple of friends arrived upon the slow Sunday train.  How we were now to amuse ourselves was the question for the proximity of a church compelled very quiet demeanor.  Finally we had a brilliant idea:  the stone barn which had been filled only a few days previous with fresh, sweet hay, would be just the place to spend the morning.  Accordingly we walked up there, pausing, however, on the way for a row on the pond in our pretty blue boat, and then ensued two charming hours.  We mounted the hay-loft, and nestled down in the soft mounds (to the detriment of our black dresses, by the way, for upon emerging we were covered with burrs and straws), and being far from reproving ears we sung both sacred and secular music, and laughed at a droll impersonation, of Fechter’s Claude—­

  “Ah! false one,
  It is ze Prince zow lovest, not ze man,” etc.,

and an equally comic burlesque upon Forrest, and were very sorry to learn that the carriages were waiting to take us to Lake Wampas.

[Illustration:  The Stone Barn.]

“A new lake?” inquired a friend who had already accompanied us to Rye and Croton Lakes; “pray how many does Westchester County possess?”

Each new one is of course the prettiest, and beautiful as Rye Lake had been the previous night under the influence of the setting sun, and starlight, we all decided that Lake Wampas was simply perfect.

Dinner was ready upon our return, and before the dessert was placed upon the table a warning whistle was heard, and several of our friends were obliged to bid us a hasty adieu, and rush through Bischoff’s garden to catch the train.

In the evening we walked up to the pond for a row among the water-lilies by starlight.  There we found the bonny blue boat awaiting us, but the oars had disappeared.  Whether Bernard disapproved of water-parties on Sunday, or had merely put the oars away for safety, we could not tell, but having gone so far, we were determined not to be disappointed, so we embarked, and with an old garden-rake, and a long pole to propel the boat, we succeeded, at all events, in having a very laughable row.

The next morning our friends left us; the play-days were over, and we once more settled ourselves to study.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Marriage of a Cousin—­A Pretty Bride—­Letters—­Home Circle Complete—­A Letter of Adventures—­Wedding Cards—­A Musical Marriage—­Housekeeping under Difficulties—­Telegraphic Blunders—­A Bust of Mr. Greeley—­More Visitors.

September 10.