Nan looked over her shoulder to see Dr. Paul and his friend standing on the green shore, and the glory of her day began.
CHAPTER XII
ON UPPER POND
Upper Pond was truly a fairylike spot. Slim white birches, tall oaks and towering pines were reflected in the glassy water which was fringed by bushes and flowering weeds, the doubles of which looked up from the still depths. As the paddles dipped into the quiet surface an eagle soared away from the top of a lofty pine tree. The water was so clear one could see the smooth pebbles and shining sand at the bottom of the pond, and as the canoes glided along, they and their occupants were mirrored below.
The party was variously divided; Nan, to her joy, found herself in the same canoe as Marcus Wells, and watched him skilfully paddling in advance of the rest. “It reminds me of the gondolas on the Grand Canal,” she said presently.
“You’ve been to Venice then. Isn’t it great?”
“It is wonderful, though this is as much so in its way. Paddling a canoe must be something like rowing a gondola.”
“Something, but I’d make an awkward figure as a gondolier.”
“Did you ever try it? Ever so many Americans do.”
“I did, but though I managed to make the thing go, I knew the good Antonio was secretly amused, for I am sure I was as stiff as a ramrod, just as all are who are not born to it.”