Mrs. North went indoors to arrange for suitable rooms and Miss Palmer retired to a secluded corner of the piazza to polish up her verses to Cuyahoga. And so it happened that Peter Pan and Tim were left to their own devices, which opportunity they improved by promptly falling asleep. It was evident that they intended to get busy later on.
At supper time the children returned flushed and enthusiastic over the wonders that they had unearthed. They had investigated the Old Maid’s Kitchen and Bob thought it would be a bully place to eat luncheon on the following day. They had walked along the river bank and at a point a good deal further up had been ferried across by a little old man with a beard like Rip Van Winkle in a little old boat that was propelled by an endless chain. They had found trailing arbutus hiding away under last year’s leaves and red partridge berries and shy dog-tooth violets and Bob’s pockets were full of treasures of more or less doubtful value, but all dear to his quaint little soul.
And oh, how hungry they were, and what a supper they disposed of.
After him followed his countless braves.
Tired as they were after their long ramble they begged Miss Palmer to read aloud her poem before they went to sleep. And after a little coaxing, which was warmly joined in by Mrs. North, Miss Palmer produced her tablets and read aloud these lines.
TO CUYAHOGA.
He sleeps on the hillside’s grassy slope,
Who once was a king in the land;
And few can point out his lonely bed,