"That remains to be seen," was all the satisfaction her uncle would give her.
Anticipation was the order of the next day, and the hours of the afternoon rather dragged. At dinner Rosalind could not keep her eyes from the clock, while her uncle ate in his usual leisurely manner, smiling at her quizzically now and then.
"It will not take more than twenty minutes to walk out," he remarked, at length, when the hands pointed to seven o'clock.
Mrs. Whittredge looked inquiring.
"We are to have a little moonlight party at the creek to-night. We shall not be late, Rosalind and I," Allan added.
"You are making a new departure, are you not? A picnic yesterday, another to-night. You are really falling into the ways of Friendship."
"I am only beginning again where I left off years ago, Rosalind is showing me how," Allan smiled across the table, this time a smile of good-fellowship.
The August nights were cool, and Rosalind carried her cape with its pointed hood, when, the long ten minutes having passed, they set out. Maurice and Katherine were watching for them, and farther down the street the Partons joined them.
Under the trees that grew so thick, it was already dim twilight, but when they reached the more open country react there was still a glow in the sky, and over Red Hill floated the golden moon, attended by a single star. On the little sandy beach beneath the bridge, where the water rippled so pleasantly over the stones, a fire was burning, and before it on a log, with Curly Q. by his side, sat the magician, whittling.
"Is this the party? How lovely! What fun!" they cried, running down to join Morgan and be received by Curly Q. with ecstatic barks.