Long Sam navigated one boat and the Norris's man engineered the other.
Dolly had evolved a plan for a great joke on the boys, which, she flattered herself, would even up with Bert for the joke he had played on her.
In pursuance of their plan, the girls were taking with them a most marvellous luncheon.
There were boxes of devilled eggs, each gold and white confection in a case of fringed white paper. Sandwiches in tiny rolls and fancy shapes. Dishes of salad that were pictures in themselves, and platters of cold meats cut in appetising slices and garnished with aspic jelly in quivering translucence. Platters of cold chicken, delicately browned and garnished with parsley and lemon slices. Dainty baskets of little frosted cakes and tartlets filled with tempting jam covered with frosting.
Oh, Dolly had planned well for her little joke, and if successful, it would be rare sport.
The boys had been gone for hours when the girls started, and in their fresh linen dresses and bright hair-ribbons they were a jolly looking crowd who filled the two motor boats as they left the Crosstrees pier.
Mrs. Rose waved a good-bye, knowing the young people were safe, in charge of Long Sam and old Ephraim, the tried and trusted factotum of the Norris family.
"In you go!" cried Long Sam as he deftly handed the girls into the boats, and the laughing crowd settled themselves to enjoy the trip.
It was a beautiful mid-summer day, and the heat sufficiently tempered by the cool breezes that swept across the lake. The girls chattered and sang and called to each other as the two boats kept close together on their way.
When they reached Bramble Brook they did not go to the regular landing place, but Long Sam cleverly found a concealed nook where they could land without danger of being seen by the boys who were already there.