A bright little party gathered round the breakfast table Monday morning.
"Now, Uncle Eden," cried Maggie, "where shall we go to-day? It is Monday now."
"What is proposed?"
Several plans were ready.
"Down in the cove of the bay," said Fenton, "where the lower brook comes in--then I can fish off Old Woman's rock till lunch is ready."
"I propose the Indian falls," said Esther. "Flora and Meredith have never seen them."
"_I_ say, Fort Montgomery," said Maggie.
"Fort Montgomery!" There was a general exclamation.
"Where is that?" Meredith asked.
"Seven miles down the river. Oh it is just lovely!" Maggie explained.
"We go down with the tide and come back with the tide, and spend the day down on the hill there, opposite Anthony's Nose. I showed you from the front door which Anthony's Nose is, Ditto."
"That would be delightful. The day is going to be perfectly quiet and warm and sunny--just the thing."
"Seven miles," Fenton grunted. "Who's going to do the rowing?"
"I," said Meredith.
"And I," said Mr. Murray.
"And we can take Fairbairn," said Maggie; "and we had better, for there will be the baskets to carry."
"Nonsense--I can carry baskets," said Meredith; "and get wood, and all that."
"I think we can do without Fairbairn," said Mr. Murray. "I like the plan. It is just the day for it. If it only turn out to be just the time of tide also!"--
"We'll soon see about that," cried the boys. There was a rush and a whoop and a race to the boat-house, and then a more leisurely return.
"It's all right," said Meredith. "Couldn't be better. It is half-past eight now, and the tide just beginning to turn. It will be running down till two o'clock--and just give us a nice current home."
"And a good pull, too," said Ponton.
"_That's_ all right, old boy. Come! don't you pull backwards. Now, how soon can we be ready?"
"Just as soon as we can get our lunch ready, and the things," said Maggie. "You might pack the things, Ditto, and get them into the boat, while we see about lunch."
"What are 'things'?"
"Why, cups and saucers, and tea-kettle, and matches and plates, and paper to light the fire, and everything, you know."
"Go off," said Mr. Murray, "and see about victualling the ship. I can manage the cups and saucers."
So Maggie and Esther ran to consult Betsey, who now held a nondescript position of usefulness in the family, and was acting cook while Mrs.
Candlish was away--cook proper being absent on leave.
"O Betsey! we are going out, to be gone all day; and now, what can we have for lunch?"
"Lunch, Miss Maggie!"--
"Yes, and you know we want a good deal. There are six of us."
"You know, it's Monday."
"Well, what of it?"
"There h'aint so much as if t'was any other day. You see, yesterday it was Sunday."
"Oh well! what have we got, Betsey? I know you have got something."
"There's bread, Miss h'Esther."
"We want more than bread. And butter, and tea and coffee and all that.
We must have something more, Betsey. What _have_ you got?"
"The chickens is nothing left of 'em; and that 'am bone h'aint got much on it. I do think, Miss Maggie, ye consume a great deal in the woods!"
"Of course we do. And we want a good, hearty lunch to-day, because the boys and Uncle Eden will have a long way to row. Come, Betsey, make haste."
"There h'aint a living thing in the 'ouse, but h'oysters, and h'eggs, and potatoes. That is, nothing cooked. And ye want dressed meat."
"Oysters?" said Maggie doubtfully.
"Capital," said Esther. "And sweet potatoes. We can bake them in the ashes. And eggs are good. Meredith will make us another friar's omelet."
"There's nothing else for ye," said Betsey, summing up.
So Fairbairn carried a great bag of oysters down to the boat, and a basket with the potatoes and eggs, and the kettle, and a pail to fetch water in. And into other baskets went everything else that everybody could think of as possibly wanting from the house. Affghan and worsted, finally, and the merry party themselves.
Ten o'clock, and a soft, fair, mild day as could ever have been wished for. Not much haze to-day, yet a tempered sunlight, such as October rejoices in. No wind, and a blue sky far more tender in hue and less intense than that of summer. Little racks of cloud scattered along the horizon were, like everything else in nature, quiet and at rest; no hurry, no driving; no storms, no ripening sun-heat; earth's harvests gathered in and done for that year, and nature at rest and at play. And with slow, leisurely strokes of the oar, the little boat fell down with the tide; she was at play too. Sunshades were not opened; shawls were not unfolded; in the perfection of atmosphere and temperature there was nothing to do but to breathe and enjoy. At first even talking was checked by the calm beauty, the grand hush, of earth and sky. The boat crossed over to Gee's Point, and from there coasted down under the shore. There the colours of the woods showed plainly in their variety; dark red oaks, olive green cedars, dusky chestnut oaks and purple ashes; with now and then a hickory in clear gold, or a maple flaunting in red and yellow. They all succeeded one another in turn, with ever fresh combinations; on the opposite shore the same thing softened by distance; overhead that clear, pale blue of October.
"I do not realise that I am living in the common world!" said Flora at last. "I seem to be floating somewhere in fairy-land."
"It's October--that is all," said Mr. Murray.
"Then I never saw October before."
"Aren't you glad to make his acquaintance?" said her brother.
"But how can one come down to November after it?"
"Oh, November is _lovely_!" cried Maggie. "It is lovely here."