"All right, put on two of these gossamer webs, two heavy sweaters and wrap yourself in oil skins and maybe you won't freeze."
"Must I?" she sighed; "I'll look like a fright."
"What's the difference? You've got to hide from the ducks, anyhow. No one else will stroll down these wide avenues to-day."
"You'll be there."
He dropped his voice instinctively.
"Well, you'll always look the same to me whether you are dressed in silk or cotton bagging."
She looked up quickly with a startled expression, began to say something, changed her mind and spoke in a matter-of-fact voice:
"Then get out and I'll be ready in fifteen minutes."
When she appeared on deck, Stuart sat down and laughed heartily. She had managed to dress herself warmly and yet look pretty as a picture. Her jaunty little hunting hat was tipped with an eagle's feather. She wore a brown sweater of the finest heavy wool over her jacket. The corduroy skirt came to the knees, and she had on the most remarkable pair of wading boots he had ever seen. They were made of brown cloth-covered rubber and cut to the shape of the leg like the old-fashioned leather boots of ancient knights.
Stuart helped her down the gangway and took his seat by her side in the tender. In five minutes they were towed to the blind the old guide had selected for the day's shooting.