"You are right, Miss Darrell," said Mr. Gay, looking over the dark water with an uneasy expression in his face; "I don't think much of these fresh water mill-ponds. On the ocean, now, we know what to expect."
"Isn't there some house near by, Hugh?" asked Aunt Faith.
"No, Aunt. I selected this place because it was so solitary, you remember; there is no house within two miles."
"Could we not get there, by driving rapidly, before the storm reaches us?" said Mr. Gay, mindful of his rheumatism.
"I am afraid not, sir," replied Hugh: "it would take some time to harness the horses, and besides, the house is not on the road, but across the fields towards the south."
"What shall we do?" said Edith Chase, as the sullen water began to break with a low sound on the beach at her feet.
"The lake is beginning to growl already," said Hugh. "Come, Aunt Faith, let us go back to the woods; we will make the best shelter we can for you, all. A summer thunder-storm is not such a terrible disaster after all."
"We can't trim up the wagon with all the beautiful wreaths we made," lamented Gem. "It's too bad!"
"The shower will prevent the show," said Hugh, laughing.
"Why is Hugh like Tennyson's Brook," said Rose Saxon, as the party made their way back to the glen.