"I wouldn't go, Flossy," chimed in a voice from the rocker and one from the ottoman.
"It will be very damp there," pleaded Flossy, who did like to be accommodating.
"You may have ten thicknesses of my shawl to sit on," urged Marion. "Come, now, Flossy Shipley. I didn't have the least idea of coaxing those other girls to go, for every one knows they are selfish and will do as they please; but I did think you would keep me company. It really isn't pleasant to think of going alone."
The end of it was that Flossy, done up in a cloak twice too large for her, went off looking like the martyr that she was, and Eurie and Ruth staid in their room and laughed over the ridiculousness of Flossy Shipley going out in the night and the rain, in a lavender cashmere, to attend a religious meeting!
CHAPTER IV.
FAIRPOINT.
It was not so very dark after all, nor so disagreeable as she had imagined. She sat curled up in a heap on the deck of the Col. Phillips, looking with interested eyes on the groups of people, who, despite the rain and darkness, were evidently on their way to Chautauqua. Marion had gone to the other side of the boat and was looking over into the water, rested and interested in spite of herself by the novelty of the scene around her. The fellow-passengers seemed not to be novices like themselves, for as their talk floated to the girls it had sentences like these:
"Last year we stopped in the village, but this time we are going to be right on the ground."
"Last year it rained, too; but rain makes no difference at Chautauqua."
"They are all last year's people," said Marion, coming over to Flossy's side. "That speaks well for the interest, or the fun, doesn't it? Now what do you suppose takes all these people to this place?"