Muir pushed back his chair, rose, and began to pace up and down the room. Then he returned to his old place by the mantel, and once more began to speak.
In the mean time, Rob had been dreaming of his summer visit on the St. Lawrence. He and cousin Bess had been trying to row a large trunk from the hotel to Island Den, with a pair of tennis rackets for oars, and Fred stood on the bank, refusing to let them land. Each time that they came near the shore, he would push the boat off again. Then he seemed to hear Mr. Muir’s voice calling them to row around to the other side of the island,—and at this point, Rob waked up with a sleepy yawn. As soon as he could collect his scattered ideas, he became aware that some one was talking near him, talking low and very earnestly. He recognized the voice at once as Mr. Muir’s, and then he heard Bess speak a word or two, but so faintly that he was unable to hear what she said. What was happening?
Cautiously Rob applied his eye to the crack in the screen. His curiosity was increased. Mr. Muir was bending over Bess, and seemed
