There were rose hedges down here, too, and as the two girls pushed out from the landing the breath of summer air that followed them out upon the lake was heavy with the scent of June roses.
The girls were dressed in such boating costumes as gave them the very freest movement, and they both used the paddle skillfully. The roomy canoe, if not built for great speed, certainly was built for as much comfort as could be expected in such a craft.
Jessie was in the bow and Amy at the stern. They quickly “got into step,” as Amy called it, and their paddles literally plied the lake as one. Faster and faster the canoe sped on and very 61 soon they rounded the wooded tongue of land that hid all the long length of the lower end of the lake.
“Dogtown is the only blot on the landscape,” panted Amy, after a while. “It stands there right where the brook empties into the lake and—and it is unsightly. Whee!”
“What are you panting for, Amy?” demanded her chum.
“For breath, of course,” rejoined Amy. “Whee! You are setting an awfully fast pace, Jess.”
“I believe you are getting over-fat, Amy,” declared Jessie, solemnly.
“Say not so! But I did eat an awfully big breakfast. The strawberries were so good! And the waffles!”
“Yet you insisted on bringing a great shoe box of lunch,” said her friend.
“Not a great shoe box. Please! My own shoes came in it and I haven’t enormously big feet,” complained Amy. “But we must slow down.”