There were not many young people summering on Beatty’s Island. Ellen and Mabel could claim acquaintance with perhaps half a dozen girls of their own age, and not so many boys, youths about to enter college, or, having finished high school, waiting a chance to enter into business. Dolly and Cora Dix lived nearest. They were of the flapperish type, dressed and looked the character, were rather insipid and silly. Farther away lived Claudia and Lucile Bond, who affected knickers, were very sporty, and talked a great deal about “expressing themselves,” used the latest slang, and liked to be considered mannish. The Bonds’ nearest neighbors were the Truesdells. There were three girls in this family, Hettie, Gertrude, and Cassie, the youngest being Cassie. These were nice unaffected girls, and their brother, Alvin, a lad of eighteen, was much like them. Theirs was a hospitable house, always something going on. No amount of trouble was too much when it came to entertaining, and all was done so easily, for every one took a hand in preparations.

It was to the Truesdells’ that Ellen and Mabel went most frequently, joining forces with them when it came to excursions, picnics, and the like, and sharing with them any news which might come their way.

Therefore they were not slow to tell them of the late experiences with Tom and Reed. Hettie waved to the two girls as she saw them coming down the road. “Join us on the rocks, can’t you?” she called. “We’re going to have supper on the rocks this evening.”

“So sorry, Miss Truesdell,” Ellen answered, “but we have a previous engagement.”

“Who’s stealing our thunder?” asked Hettie. “I’ll bet it is those Dix girls; they’re always butting in when we propose anything.” There was no love lost between the Truesdell girls and the Dixes.

“You’re ’way off,” declared Mabel; “the Dix girls have nothing to do with it; they’d better not. No, my dear, we are going over to Minor’s Island to make clam chowder for two delectable youths.”

“Who are they? Who are they?” Hettie stopped whisking the mayonnaise dressing she was preparing.

“Tell her, Ellen. They are your discovery.”

This Ellen proceeded to do, having an attentive listener, who at the end of the tale exclaimed: “What luck! It is the most romantic story I have heard for an age. Are you going to keep the ‘delectable youths’ all to yourselves, or are you going to let the rest of us in on the fun?”

“Now, Hettie Truesdell, what do you take us for?” cried Mabel. “Of course we want you to meet them. To-day’s feast is their affair, so we can’t ask any one to that, but we’ll get up something when we can share them with you.”

Hettie laughed. “How pleased they would be to hear us talk of sharing them, as if we were cannibals. Why can’t they join us on the trip up to Goose Island that we have planned for day after to-morrow?”

“Why not, indeed? We’ll propose it to them. Farewell, Hettie; we’ll see you to-morrow and tell you what happens.”

They went off to join Miss Rindy, who had gone ahead to meet the boys at the wharf, and the small company was soon landed at little Minor’s Island. As they entered what Tom and Reed were pleased to call “the studio,” the girls looked around in surprise, for the boys had made a most attractive place out of the shabby little building. On the walls they had tacked building paper, which made an excellent background for a number of sketches. They had resurrected an old armchair from the haunted house, had covered it with stuff of pleasant tone, had made a rough table and two benches, had covered the floor with rag rugs, and had put up shelves on which two brass candlesticks and some bits of pottery were placed as ornaments.

“You are perfect wonders!” exclaimed Mabel. “You remember what this place looked like when we first saw it, Ellen.”

“I certainly do, and it looked only fit for chickens or cows.”

“We’ve worked like Trojans,” Reed told them, “but it has been great sport. There is a lot more we can do, but we shall not attempt it this year. We sleep in the loft, have two bunks there, and here is our kitchenette.” He opened a door into a small compartment where stood a blue-flame stove, a few dishes, and some cooking utensils; a wooden tray held the clams.

In a few minutes all fell to work and the chowder was made ready, proving as satisfactory as expected. Bread and butter, fruit, coffee, and a large chocolate cake completed the meal.

“And where did you get the cake?” asked Ellen. “I know you didn’t make it.”

“I should say not. We bribed Mrs. Dan Ferry to make it. Most of her boarders have gone and she could take time to ‘accommodate’ us. She’s hot stuff when it comes to cooking, you know.”

A merry meal it was, and was ended as the sun went down, leaving rosy clouds reflected in the water. “It’s as if a heavenly rosebush had been shaken down,” declared Ellen. “And, oh, those opal and jade waves, and that exquisite violet and turquoise in the eastern sky! Aren’t you dying to paint it, Mr. Marshall?”

“Mr. Marshall, indeed,” he replied disgustedly. “To you I am Cronine, please remember. Yes, Cronette, I am aching to paint so much that I see that I could keep busy every hour of the day. But, I tell you, I mean to come back here, if I am alive next year. Shall you come?”

“Don’t ask me. How can I tell? I only know that it is the most wonderful summer I ever spent, and that it would be too much to expect to repeat it.”

Here Miss Rindy’s voice broke in: “Aren’t you boys going to wash all those dishes? If you’re not, we will.”

“You will not,” announced Tom, who had just emerged from the little kitchen. “I have put them in a pan, poured water over them, and there they shall stay till morning when we can tackle them. There isn’t any hot water now.”

“So that’s what you have been doing while we outside have been rhapsodizing,” said Mabel softly.

“That’s old Tom all over,” said Reed. “He is the most practical chap, hauls me down from the clouds a dozen times a day.”

“But, once down, you do your share,” declared Tom. “He goes at it like a whirlwind and gets things done while I’m thinking about them.”

They chugged back to Beatty’s in the small motor-boat, arriving at home in time to catch the last of the afterglow and to watch the moon emerge from smoky clouds.

“Those are nice boys,” remarked Miss Rindy with satisfaction. “It’s good to get among that kind again. I knew some of the same sort in France, like that Tom Clayton, always thinking of some one besides himself. I believe of the two I like him the best.” At which remark Ellen had a small feeling of resentment, although she couldn’t have told why.

The two young men were quite ready to accept the invitation to go on the trip to Goose Island. “We shall have supper there,” Ellen announced. “We’ll build a fire; then we can make coffee, fry bacon, and make those scrumptious sandwiches,—lettuce, mayonnaise, and the hot bacon between. You’ll go, of course. Cousin Rindy?”

“Indeed I will not. You know I don’t hanker after those motor-boat trips. I had enough of the water when I crossed the seas, and I only go now when I have to. No, please count me out. Who all are going?”

“The Truesdell girls, their brother Alvin, and a young married cousin with her brother, a boy about Cassie’s age. There will be ten in all, eleven if you will go.”

“No, I’ll have a nice peaceful time at home, with no young, skittish frivolers about.” Miss Rindy gave her twisted smile.

“Now, Cousin Rindy,” Ellen protested, “you know you don’t consider us skittish and frivolous, though we may be young.”

“I’m not saying what I consider, though I do say that if you are going to keep up this everlasting gadding around you’ll not be fit for much of anything by the time we get ready to leave, and won’t be in any trim for the winter.”

“Well, to-morrow will see about the last of our frolics,” said Mabel regretfully, “for Alvin leaves the day after, and there’s no one to run the boat, which will be stored for the winter. The Truesdells will be going next week, and by Labor Day there’ll be scarcely any one left.”

“And when do those two boys go? They have a motor-boat, haven’t they?”

“Yes, a small one. I don’t know how long they will stay. As long as they can keep warm, they said. There is no chimney in that place.”

“Why couldn’t they move over to the big house?”

“Maybe they will. You might suggest it,” answered Mabel slyly.

Miss Rindy gave a little contemptuous sniff and the subject was dropped.

Supplied with wraps and carrying various boxes and baskets, the girls set off for the wharf where they were met by the rest of the party. Reed and Tom were on hand, having met the Truesdell girls the day before, and were helping Alvin stow away the provisions.

“Don’t forget a jug of water,” Hettie called.

“And matches, has any one matches?” Gertrude asked.

For answer Tom dived down into his pocket and produced a box which he held up to view.

“We’d better have a can of milk, in case the cream gives out,” Hettie suggested. “Cassie, you run up to the store and get it. And see if they have any marshmallows,” she called after the child who sped off on her errand.

She was back quickly, bringing the can of milk. “No more marshmallows; all sold out, Mr. Hodges said, and they aren’t going to get any more.”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. I thought it would be nice to toast some, but we can get along without.”

At last all were aboard, and they pushed off, rounded a point, and turned toward the upper reaches of the bay, the small trailer bobbing along in their wake. The skies were blue and the breezes just fresh enough to make the girls pull up the collars of their sweaters. Gulls were soaring and dipping, giving raucous screams when a fishing boat cast out undesired objects from the catch. Before five o’clock Goose Island was reached, and all scrambled ashore.

“There’s the fireplace,” cried Gertrude, plunging through the bushes to reach a point where, earlier in the season, a fireplace of stones had been built up. “Now you masculines go hunting for driftwood while we unpack the baskets.”

In a short time wood enough was gathered, the coffee was bubbling merrily, and the bacon sizzling in the pan. There we............