"Oh, you needn't look for sugar," she said, laughing, "for I haven't any with me, but we'll get you some fresh clover."

With Nancy's help she soon had a fine bunch of pink clover for Romeo, and he seemed quite as pleased as if it had been the cubes that he so often enjoyed.

When the party of boys had left the road to cross the fields that lay between them, and the forest at the foot of the mountain, they had believed that they knew exactly how to go to reach the hermit's hut.

The old hermit had been dead for years, but every season the summer guests at the hotels and farmhouses searched all around the deserted hut, expecting to find some relic to take home and label as a bit of the hermit's property.

The boys supposed that they had the woods to themselves, and that they would be uninterrupted in their search of the place.

They did not know that the mountain climbers had taken the same direction, intending, before they enjoyed their lunch beneath the trees, to stop at the old, deserted house.

Mrs. Paxton and little Floretta had worked more persistently than any others of the party, and Mrs. Paxton had found a small, bra.s.s b.u.t.ton.

The others had laughed at the prize, asking her if she intended to keep it as a souvenir.

"Certainly," said Mrs. Paxton. "I'm sure this bra.s.s b.u.t.ton must have belonged on some old coat that the hermit wore!"

"Perhaps in his youth, before he came up here to live, he may have been a janitor," said a young man, with a saucy laugh.

"Or a brakeman," suggested another.

Mrs. Paxton pretended not to hear their teasing, and though the prize that she had found had been only a valueless thing, she kept it.

Floretta was very eager to stay, and continue to peep into cracks in the floor and walls, and to poke with a stick under the doorsill, and in the soft earth around the hut.

The older members of the party knew that if they were to ascend the mountain, see the view, and descend before twilight, they must start at once.

As soon as their picnic lunch had been enjoyed they commenced to climb the rugged mountain path.

It was very steep and rough, and it had been said that no children should be allowed in the party.

Mrs. Paxton had insisted that her small daughter was a wonderful little climber, who was quite equal to the demands of a long tramp.

Floretta had wished to remain at the hut, but as she could not do that, she proceeded to make herself as unpleasant as possible, by complaining every step of the way, until one young man voiced the feeling of the entire party.

"This is a horrid, rough old path, and I'm tired. I wish I'd stayed at _home_!" said Floretta.

"I wish so, _too_!" said the young man, and several of the party, too polite to say it, at heart, agreed with him.

Floretta's was the only gloomy face, however. The others tramped gaily onward, singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and laughing as they stepped upon rolling stones, or tripped over long, gnarled roots that rose above the surface, as if especially designed to catch lagging feet.

"All day upon the hills We've chased the chamois far, But deeper joy now thrills Beneath the evening star."

The youth sang gaily, and several of his friends joined him in singing the old song.

Arrived at the summit they rested, enjoyed the view, laughed and joked about their weariness, and made many wild guesses as to how long it would take them to make the descent and drive back to the hotel.

"It will be three o'clock before we reach the Cleverton," said one.

"Nonsense!" cried another, "this is really called a mountain by courtesy. It's only a big hill. I say we shall be on the piazza, and wondering what we can do next, as early as half-past two."

"It's more likely to be half-past _three_!" declared another, and when all felt sufficiently rested, they commenced the descent.

Floretta refused to keep closely beside her mother, insisting upon clinging to another member of the party, to whom she had taken a fancy.

The party was a large one, much larger, indeed, than had at first been planned, and while half of the number were guests at the Cleverton, the others were from the Merlington, a hotel situated nearer the village, and from several large farmhouses that entertained summer boarders.

The guests from the Cleverton had kept closely together during the trip, while those from the Merlington had done the same.

They had reached the foot of the mountain, and were tramping along a path that ran nearly parallel to that on which the hermit's house stood.

Floretta saw the boys, near the house, and also saw that Jack Tiverton was with them.

Without a word, she left the lady to whose arm she had been clinging, and making her way along behind bushes and underbrush, she managed to sneak in at the door of the hut, without having been seen by the party of boys.

The lady, with whom she had been walking, supposed that she had run back to join her mother, while Mrs. Paxton felt quite undisturbed, because she believed that her little girl was still clinging to the arm of the lady with whom she had chosen to walk.

It had required two barges to convey the party, and now they found them waiting, the horses a bit impatient to be off.

The guests from the Merlington clambered into the first barge, and they with a few of the farmhouse party filled it to overflowing, some of the men being obliged to ride homeward, seated upon the steps. Meanwhile the Cleverton people were forced to wait until the barge for their party drove up.

The first barge had started, and was rolling along, and a chorus of college songs was wafted back on the breeze, while handkerchiefs fluttered as the gay pa.s.sengers laughed at the crowd that had not yet started.

Mrs. Paxton paused with her foot on the step, and looked back.

"Why, where's Floretta?" she asked.

"In the first barge," cried a voice in reply.

"Are you _sure_?" she asked.

"Why, certainly," said the other, "she's with that tall, fine-looking lady from the Merlington. She'll be home before you are."

The second barge was soon filled and on its way. The horses were less fresh than those of the first barge, and seemed determined to lag.

Indeed, they required constant urging to keep them from dropping into a slow walk.

"Those other fellows ahead of us started some lively college songs,"

said a disgusted pa.s.senger, "and they're actually out of sight now; but the way these nags are poking I couldn't think of anything to sing that would be slow enough to be appropriate."

And while one barge was going over the road at a lively rate of speed, and the other jogging along at a snail's pace, Floretta, at the hut, was having a most exciting time.

Once inside the place, she had crouched beneath a window to learn, if possible, what the boys were talking about.

She had wanted to remain there when the party had started for the mountain path, and she had been very impatient during the long tramp.

She cared nothing for the view, and determined, on the return, to stop, if only for a few moments, at the hut.