“If that thing out there cries again she will wake,” said the gentleman to himself. “I must be off before that happens. But I should like to see her eyes. What a pretty picture it is!” Once more the loon gave its maniacal laugh and the lady started, sat bolt upright and wide awake. Her admirer had not time to retreat but he took his oars up and confronted her manfully. It was an awkward moment. He apologized. The lady listened very politely. Then she smiled.
“Most of the islands in this lake are owned by private people,” she said, “who use them during the summer months for the purpose of camping out upon them. I should advise you, if you row about much here, to keep to the open water, unless you wish to be seriously handled by the fathers and mothers of families.”
“Thank you very much,” returned the gentleman, standing up in his boat, “I assure you I intended no rudeness, but I have never seen so charming a summer couch before, and I was really fascinated by the—ah,—the picture you made. May I ask what you mean by 'camping out'? Is it always done in this fashion?”
The lady stared “Have you never camped out?”
“Never in my life,” said the gentleman. “I am an Englishman, staying at the hotel near the point for a day or two. I came out to see something of the country.”
“Then you should at least have camped out for a week or so. That is a genuine Canadian experience,” said the lady with a frankness which completely restored the equanimity of the Englishman.
“But how do you live?” he went on in a puzzled manner that caused the lady with the red-brown hair, still all hanging about her, much amusement.
“O, capitally! Upon fish and eggs, and gooseberry tarts, and home-made bread and French coffee. Just what you would get in town, and much better than you get at the hotel.”
“O, that would be easy!” the gentleman groaned. “I eat my meals in a pitch-dark room, in deadly fear and horror of the regiments of flies that swarm in and settle on everything the minute one raises the green paper blinds.”
The lady nodded. “I know. We tried it for two or three seasons, but we could not endure it; the whole thing, whitewash and all, is so trying, isn't it? So we bought this lovely island and bring our tent here and live so comfortably.” The gentleman did not reply at once. He was thinking that it was his place to say “Good morning,” and go, although he would much have liked to remain a little longer. He hazarded the remark: