"It is, indeed," answered Billie. "There is always one and sometimes several wherever we go. Once, in Salt Lake City, it saved us no end of trouble and brought two lovers together, because a horrid old Mormon gentleman caught the fever. He had it so badly that we thought he would just carry Cousin Helen off by force, but he was deathly afraid of her."
"Remember your promise, Miss Elinor," called Mr. Campbell presently.
"Where's your guitar?"
Some one fetched the guitar from the car and Elinor, leaning against a tree, struck several chords and smiled mischievously.
"Shall it be a love song?" she asked.
"Something religious would be more appropriate in this sacred spot," observed Miss Campbell severely. But Elinor, ignoring the suggestion, began to sing:
"'O, My Luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
My Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
"'As fair thou art, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
"'Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
And rocks melt wi' the sun,
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.
"'And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while,
And I will come again My Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.'"
While Elinor sang this charming song Mr. Buxton regarded Miss Helen Campbell with an expression so abjectly adoring that Mr. Campbell gave a roar of boyish laughter and laid himself flat on the ground in the ecstasy of his amusement. They all laughed, indeed. Even Miss Campbell joined in, in spite of her annoyance.