“Reach in these windows.”
“Of course not! There are other cottages all around us, and the grounds are doubtless patrolled during the night.”
“Just the same,” persisted Nancy, “I don’t like sleeping in a little cottage with windows so close to the ground.”
“Wait until you go to Yellowstone, as you are always talking of, you’ll sleep in a cabin there.”
The next thing they knew, the sun was shining brightly, and Miss Ashton was calling:
“Hustle, girls! It’s after seven, and we leave at eight thirty!”
They dressed and packed in a hurry, and crossed the gravel path to the hotel. When they reached the top of the stone steps leading to the terrace, they paused to admire the view. The water of the Basin was calm and blue; the sky crossed by bands of brilliant light; and the surrounding mountain ranges were a bit misty.
“This view is said to resemble the one across the Bay of Naples,” said Miss Ashton, as they reluctantly continued on their way to the dining room.
“It is a lovely place,” said Nancy, when they were once more in the bus, and rolling past the brilliant flower beds, tall pine and spruce trees, and out upon the main road. “I had a good time here, and I rather hate to leave.”
“I hate to think that our trip is almost over,” said Jim, so softly that none of the others heard him.