"At Mosswood? Well, I can believe it. But at Leeds November comes with a scowl and a bl.u.s.ter and takes one by the shoulders and gives one a shake--to put one in order for winter, I suppose."

"I don't think shaking puts anything in order," remarked Esther.

"No. Now _this_--" said Flora, wistfully looking around her--"this comes as near making me feel good, as anything can."

"Take a lesson--" said Mr. Murray.

"But after all, the months must be according to their nature," said Flora.

"Certainly. The difference is, that _you_ may choose what manner of nature you will be of. It all depends, you know," Mr. Murray went on smiling, "on how much of the sun the months get. And on how much of the sun you get."

"How can I choose?" said Flora.

"How? Why, you may be in the full sunshine all the time if you like."

Again the boat dropped down the stream silently. The way was long; seven miles is a good deal in a row-boat; so they took it leisurely and enjoyed to the full the consciousness that it _was_ a long way, and they should have a great deal of it. By and by they came to a little rocky island or promontory, connected with the mainland by marsh meadows at least if by nothing more, to get round which they had to make quite a wide sweep. When they had pa.s.sed it and drew into the sh.o.r.e again, they were already nearing the southern hills which from Mosswood looked so distant and seemed to lock into one another. They had the same seeming still, though standing out now in brighter tints and new and detailed beauty. On and on the little boat went, coasting along. No further break in the line of sh.o.r.e for a good while; only they were nearing and nearing that nest of hills. At last they came abreast of one or two houses, where a well-defined road came down to the river.

"Do we land here?" asked Flora.

"Not yet. Round on the other side of that bluff we shall come to a creek, with a mill; that is the place. Are you in a hurry?"

"I should like to sail so all day!"

They floated down with the tide and a little movement of the oars; there was absolutely no wind. The sloops and schooners in the river drifted or swung at anchor. Hardly a leaf moved on a stem. The tide ran fast, however, and the little boat slipped easily past the gay banks, with their kaleidoscope changes of colour. This piece of the way nevertheless seemed long, just because the inexperienced were constantly expecting it to come to an end; but on and on the boat glided, and there was never a creek or a mill to be seen.

"Uncle Eden," said Maggie, "there _used_ to be a creek here somewhere."

"Certainly."

"There is none here now," said Flora.

"That you see."

"I can look along the sh.o.r.e for a good way, Mr. Murray. Are we going quite down to those mountains?"

"No. You will see the creek presently."

"The banks seem without the least break in them."

"It will not do to trust to appearances. Have you not found that out yet?"

"I tell you what, I'm getting hungry," said Fenton, who was taking his turn at the oars.

"Eleven o'clock. You will have to control your impatience for some time yet," said Meredith.

"I can tell you, this boat is awfully heavy," said Fenton. He had meant to use a stronger word, but changed it. "Can't we get lunch by twelve?"

"Oh no! we shall have some reading first, I guess," said Maggie. "Lunch at twelve? Why, you never have it till one, Fenton."

"Makes a difference whether you are pulling a dozen people and forty baskets along," rejoined her brother. "It's an awful bore, to have to do things."

There was a general merry burst at that.

"What sort of things, Fenton? Do you want to live like a South Sea Island savage?" his uncle asked.

"Uncommonly jolly, _I_ should think," responded Fenton. "Dive into the surf and get a lobster, climb into a tree and fetch down a cocoanut--there's your dinner."

"A very queer dinner," remarked Maggie, amid renewed merriment.

"I never heard that lobsters were fished out of breakers, either," said Flora.

"You seem to think it is no work to fight the breakers and climb the cocoanut trees," remarked Mr. Murray. "However, I grant you, it would not occupy a great deal of time. Is your idea of life, that it is useful only for eating purposes?"

"It comes to that, pretty much," said the boy. "What do people work for, if it isn't to live! I don't care how they work."

"Some people's aim is to get where they will do nothing," said Mr.

Murray. "Do you see a bit of a break yonder in the lines of the sh.o.r.e, Miss Flora?"

"Is it?--yes, it is the creek!" cried Maggie joyously. "It is the creek.

Now you can see it, Flora."

It opened fast upon them now as they came near, quite a wide-mouthed little creek, setting in among wooded banks which soon narrowed upon it.

Just before they narrowed, an old mill stood by the side of the water, and there were some steps by which one could land. There the boat was made fast, and the little party disembarked, glad after all to feel their feet again; and baskets one after another were handed out.

"What is all this cargo?" said Fenton, grumbling; "and who's going to carry it to the top of the hill? Suppose we stay down here?"

"And lose all the view?" said Maggie.

"And the walk? and the fun?" said Esther.

"Fun!" echoed Fenton. "Just take that sack along with you, if you want fun. What ever have you got in it? cannon b.a.l.l.s?"

"Oysters."

"Oysters! In the sh.e.l.l! Why didn't you have them taken out? What's in this basket? this is as bad."

"Cups and saucers, and spoons and plates, and such things."

"We could have done without them."

"How?"

"Eat with our fingers."

"You had better go to the South Sea Islands, and done with it," said Esther. "Come--you take hold of one side of the basket and I of the other."

"No, Essie," said her uncle; "that would be very unchivalrous. Do not ask Fenton such a thing. In the South Sea Islands men may make women do the work for them; but not here. Come, my boy, here are three of us and only a basket apiece; take up your burden and be thankful, and be brave."