“Up this way.”
Lilian was just pointing out the pine grove to Philip and they had turned to go there when they looked back to see Hilary and Campbell turning the other way, but looking back to wave friendly hands.
“There are the most beautiful rocks of all in the pine grove, Philip, and along the shore of Merrymeeting Bay.”
Down the narrow trail they walked into the grove, Lilian leading. Little blueberry bushes, prickly juniper, bright green moss, sprawling arborvitæ, tall sweet ferns and other greenery lined the way. Then they reached the thick carpet of pine needles and climbed down a natural stairway, none too regular, made of pine roots padded with moss and brown pine needles.
“This is the way to the swimming cove,” said Lilian, pointing to the rocks and the water, which appeared through the trees. “The hunters’ cabin is on in that direction, a short walk. Would you like to go on there?”
“I’d rather sit out on the rocks, I believe, and talk to you while I have the chance,” replied Philip quickly, “but wherever you want to go, I’ll be glad to tag along.”
“I’d rather visit, too, Philip,” responded Lilian pleasantly, as she looked about for the best location. “Let’s climb back up to my favorite rock. We’ll be close at hand if the girls want us, and by ourselves if many of the folks come down to the grove.”
Lilian’s sweater made a comfortable cushion for both as perched upon the firm old Maine rock they began to talk to each other of their dreams and ambitions. It was just as engrossing as it had been upon their ride from Rochester to Buffalo. While they talked, the bell rang for swimming.
“They are back from the hare and hounds chase and that is the call for swimming; do you want to go, Philip?”
“No; do you?”