AN OFFENDED EAVESDROPPER
“We are alone, the world my own,
That holds but you and me, but you and me,”
hummed Emmeline Cerrito softly, her dark eyes fixed dreamily on the wide expanse of rippling blue water, gleaming more dazzlingly blue in the warm sunlight of a perfect August morning.
“That is exactly the way I feel, only I couldn’t express myself,” remarked Ruth Garnier lazily, from her recumbent position on the white sand. “Just to lie here and look out on this wonderful lake makes me feel as though there was nothing except a world of water and sky with you and me the only persons in it.”
Ruth and Emmy had crept silently from their beds at the first rays of dawn. Stealing a march on the rest of the slumbering party, they had donned their bathing suits and noiselessly made their escape from the cottage for a morning plunge in the cool waters of the lake. They were now idly lolling on the sand, in the midst of a delightful tête-à-tête.
The previous afternoon had witnessed the tumultuous arrival of the Equitable Eight at Driftwood Heights, as Miss Drexal had named her cottage. Six weeks had followed one another in rapid succession since the seven Hillside members had departed from Miss Belaire’s for their respective homes. It had been agreed among them, and with Blanche Shirly, who had declared her intention to join them shortly after Miss Drexal had made her generous proposal, that the last of July should find them bag and baggage under the Garniers’ hospitable roof, where Marian was to meet them. Arrived at the Garniers’, the girls were to leave there all excess luggage, and proceed as lightly burdened as possible to the Heights. Adhering strictly to this program, they had arrived at Lakeview, the nearest station to the Heights, and from there had, at their own request, made the journey to the cottage on foot. The few remaining hours of the afternoon had been spent by the Equitable Eight in unpacking and in exploring the immediate environs of the Heights.
Ruth and Emmy had felt no fatigue from the long railroad journey of the day before. The morning sun showered its welcome warmth upon them as they lay on the sand, placidly enjoying the beauty of the prospect that stretched before their eyes.
“Yes, it does give one the feeling of being cut off from the rest of the world,” Emmy was saying. “It’s looking at the water that makes it seem so. That’s what made me think of Tosti’s Venetian Song. Let me tell you that we won’t be cut off from it long. Once the girls wake up and discover that we are missing, our beautiful illusion will be rudely shattered by wild yells from the rear.”
“Sad but true,” laughed Ruth. “With such lively persons as Jane Pellew and Frances Bliss in the near background, no illusion is really safe.”