The front windows commanded a full view of the lake, which was charming with its irregular shore line and picturesque, verdure-clad islands.
A small dock jutted out into the water, and close by were racks bearing several bright-colored canoes. Beside the dock, bobbing gently on the serene water, were two rowboats.
“I can see where we don’t spend much time on land,” said Amy, as Miss Alling turned in back of the lodge and silenced the motor. “I feel the call of those canoes already.”
“Lake Towako will be here to-morrow, and so will the canoes,” Aunt Emma reminded her, smiling. “I imagine we shall have enough to do to-night just to put the rooms in order. I wired Phrosy to come down here, but the deserted condition of the house leads me to believe that Phrosy has failed me.”
“Who is Phrosy?” Jessie asked, but at that moment the door at the rear of the house opened and the entire breadth of the doorway was blocked by a towering black figure.
“Phrosy, why didn’t you come out to meet us?” asked her mistress, severely. “I thought you had not come.”
“Ah begs yo’ pardon, Miss Alling, I sho’ does,” said the big black woman in a rich and mellow voice. “But Ah done think you was de ghosts fo’ sure.”
“Ghosts!” cried the girls, and Phrosy turned her solemn visage upon them.
“Dey comes f’om dat swamp,” she said, and pointed with a shaking finger. “Dey does, as sho’ as Ah lives.”