Irene pulled with swift, sure strokes across the summer lake. The lake was one of the great features of the place. It was a quarter of a mile wide, and half a mile in length, and had been carefully attended to by owner after owner for generations; so that groups of water-lilies grew here, and swans arched their proud white necks and spread out their feathered plumes. Little Agnes had never seen anything so lovely before, and when she bent forward and saw her own reflection in the water she gave a scream of childish pleasure.

"Yes, dear; I will bring it up here and read it to you. It will probably not be long now before we get it."

"Who is there?" Then the voice continued, "If it is you, Irene, the door is bolted, and the blinds are down, and the shutters shut, so even if you break the glass you cannot get in."

"Isn't she charming?" she said.

"Indeed! are the others troublesome?" asked Rosamund, her eyes sparkling.