The weather had now grown sultry, the afternoon was very hot, and there was a general desire to lie in the shade and doze. Margery’s plans for a siesta were a little more complicated than those of the others. She longed to lie in a hammock under great trees, surrounded by the leafy screens of the woodlands; to gaze at the blue sky through the loop-holes in the towering branches above her, and to dream of the mysteries of the forest.
“Martin,” said she, to the young guide, “is there a hammock among the things we brought with us?”
His face brightened. “Of course there are hammocks,” he said. “I wonder none of you asked about them before.”
“I never thought of it,” said Margery. “I haven’t had time for lounging, and as for Aunt Harriet, she would not get into one for five dollars.”
“Where shall I hang it?” he asked.
“Not anywhere about here. Couldn’t you find some nice place in the woods, not far away, but where I would not be seen, and might have a little time to myself? If you can, come and tell me quietly where it is.”
“I know what she means,” said Martin to himself. “It’s a shame that she should be annoyed. I can find you just such a place,” he said to Margery. “I will hang the hammock there, and I will take care that nobody else shall know where it is.” And away he went, bounding heart and foot.
In less than a quarter of an hour he returned. “It’s all ready, Miss Dearborn,” he said. “I think I have found a place you will like. It’s generally very close in the woods on a day like this, but there is a little bluff back of us, and at the end of it the woods are open, so that there is a good deal of air there.”
“That is charming,” said Margery, and with a book in her hand she accompanied Martin.
They were each so interested in the hammock business that they walked side by side, instead of one following the other, as had been their custom heretofore.