Toward sunset the rain stopped, and a copper flame was reflected up from the windows of a cottage visible to the eastward through the trees; and the western sky, opening along the horizon under great smoky-purple battlements of cloud, revealed unspeakable glories of clear gold. Throughout the rare hour, till dusk fell, the thrushes sang ecstatically, so unusual an outburst that Barbara dragged every one out upon the wet porch to listen to the thrilling, cloistral-pure cadences, the infinite tranquillities of tone. So inspiring was that hour in the front of twilight that even the catbird down in the back garden forgot that he had been for days too busy to sing, and mounted the topmost bough of a tall cherry, and eased his soul in a chaos of golden phrases.
Very early the next morning,—the kind of morning when the sunlight itself seems as if it were just sparkling from a bath in cold fountains,—Barbara and Glenowen started out for a paddle across the lake to visit old Debby. They went through the barn-yard, through the bars, through the pasture, and through the wood; and in response to his bounding and wagging appeals, they took Keep, the mastiff, with them. They went early, in order to be back in time for the dinner with Doctor John and Doctor Jim. And Barbara insisted on letting Keep go in the canoe, that she might erase from his generous heart the memory of her harshness on the morning of her great adventure. At her command, the dog stepped in so circumspectly, and lay down with so nice a balance, that Uncle Bob was impressed.
"The dog's a born canoeist, Barb," he declared, as he headed up the shore instead of straight out across the lake. "I wonder you ever had the heart to leave him behind,—and to take those kittens, who couldn't tell a canoe from a horse-trough."
Barbara would have answered that the kittens needed her more than Keep did, who had all the world for his friend; but her thoughts were diverted by the direction in which her uncle was steering.
"Why do you go this way, Uncle Bob?" she demanded, looking at him over her shoulder while her dripping paddle-blade rested on the gunwale.
"I want to examine a certain big rock, where a certain small girl did certain strange things!" replied Glenowen, gravely.
Barbara flushed, and drooped her head.
"I didn't know you knew about that, Uncle Bob!" she said, in a low voice. "Don't let's go there!"
"All right!" assented Glenowen, cheerfully. He had recalled the old tragedy of deliberate purpose, because, being of Welsh blood, and superstitious, he was afraid Barbara's unparalleled high spirits might bring her some keen disappointment. He had purposed to discipline her with a dash of bitter memories, that he might avert the envy of the gods; and when her head drooped he had accomplished his purpose. But Barbara had changed her mind.
"No!" she said. "Let's go close to the rock, and look right down into the water, just where I was lying when old Debby pulled me out!"