It was indeed an ideal morning. The sky was as soft and warm, as blue
and white, as only the skies of early summer can be. Treading the
mingled shadow and light, thrown from the interlacing boughs above,
they came at last to the blue curves of Kempenfeldt Bay, whose waves
lapped lightly on the beach. Here they found the two younger Macleod
children, who had come to see the party off. Just as the latter
arrived, the youth, Herbert, who had been amusing himself rocking a
punt in a creek by the shore, managed to upset the craft and
precipitate himself into deep water. The mishap had no more serious
result--for the lad was a good swimmer--than to frighten Rose, and
deprive her of the anticipated pleasure of a visit to "Bellevue" with
Helene and her brother Edward. Bidding the former a hurried goodbye,
with injunctions to her brother to take care of her friend, Rose
disappeared with the children into the woods.

The young man now released a row-boat from its bondage to the shore,
helped his companion into it, and pushed it far out upon its native
element. A new day in the New World, and a long boat-ride before
them--what could they wish for more? Edward, at least, enjoyed the
prospect extremely, especially when he could get the bonnet rightly
focused. This was a matter somewhat difficult of achievement, as its
owner had to his mind a heedless habit of dodging, and his remarks,
instead of being didactic and improving in their nature, were
necessarily exclamatory and interrogative, in order to gain the
attention of his fair _vis-a-vis_. Being a young gentleman of literary
tastes he thought of Addison's dissertation upon the fan, and its
great adaptability to the purposes of the coquette. To the mind of
this impartial critic, a fan was not half so effective and terrible a
weapon as the present style of bonnet.