“All right, you shall have the rest, Jean. I love to see you so careful of Marjorie!”
“Let’s stay out on deck as long as possible; may we, Miss West?”
“Just as long as you like tonight,” replied Patricia, who herself enjoyed it outside. But they had nothing to dread, for the lake was calm; no motion of the boat was felt except the throbbing of the engine. Gulls flew high or low or rested on the water. It was cloudy and the sun, round and orange, slowly sank through and below the clouds, leaving for a little while a golden glow upon the water. The girls played a few of the guessing games when it grew dark, but finally the time came when the little god of dreams claimed his own. For some time June had been sitting with her head on Hilary’s shoulders, when Miss West declared that the procession for the staterooms would “now start”.
“Don’t ring the bell as I did,” admonished Jean, “I thought it was the electric button. You pull down the light and press the button to ring. After I made the mistake I locked the door and skipped out, so I wouldn’t be there when the maid came.”
“You needn’t have worried. I was just across from you with my door braced open to air the place, and nobody came.”
“Thanks, Betty. You take a heavy load off my conscience!”
Nothing disturbed the serenity of the night. The girls were wakened by an early stop at Kingston and soon found themselves taking breakfast with the second “shift” in the dining-room. They were to transfer to the other boat at Prescott, but the Toronto was going very slowly on account of a heavy fog, and finally anchored for nearly an hour. When the fog lifted, however, the girls found a bright day before them. The turning of the capstan when the anchor was drawn up interested them not a little. The transfer was made to the boat which was to take them through the rapids.
From now on to Montreal the scenery was beautiful. It was the broad St. Lawrence with its Thousand Islands and rapids. The Merrymeeting girls were down in the dining-room when the first rapids were reached, and one or two looked anxiously at Miss West, who smiled reassuringly, and soon the churning waters were left behind, with nothing but one little grinding scrape to remind any one of rocks as the boat went through. “And perhaps that was our imagination,” admitted June, as they discussed it later.
“I’m getting enough rocks at last,” remarked Hilary.
“Why, do you like them so much?”