There followed a dreamy silence devoted to maidenly meditation concerning the manifold charms of Joe Curtis until an idea caused Helen to cry, “Virginia, you should go fishing in the place Joe wrote about. I know where it is. Think of it, you would fish in the same place, in the same water and by the same lily pads where he has been. We couldn’t catch the same fish but we might catch relatives.”
“Let’s go now,” agreed Virginia, moved greatly by Helen’s sentimental suggestion.
It was a long pull in the row boat to the head of the pond; but they took turns at the oars and at last arrived at their destination. The day was warm and the exercise at the oars did not cool the girls.
Helen noted the position of the sun which yet hung high. “Nothing will bite, now ‘V.,’” she objected. “We came hours too soon. He said to fish at sundown. We had better go ashore and wait.”
Glad to get out of the burning sun, they rowed to the shore and, clambering up the bank, dropped down in a shady spot.
Suddenly Helen became restless. “I hear a strange humming noise,” she worried.
Virginia was likewise nervously alert. “I hear it, too. It’s a low buzzing–much louder than mosquitoes,” she agreed.
“What can it be?” Helen troubled.
“It’s my hornets’ nest,” cried a childish voice behind them.
With startled exclamations, the girls turned their heads.