_Boulder Lake_
August 20th
10 P. M.
I forgot to give this letter to the postman to-night so I will tell you
of two or three surprises which have made me wide-awake, rather.
Of course Mr. Nugent returned with me, (and as there is always a room
at the Club House at his disposal I suppose he will remain through the
deer and grouse seasons--unless--but I vow I don’t know!) I was glad
to see that beautiful avenue dividing the dark forest, once more, and
we walked slowly, the buckboard following. I can’t say the familiar
corduroy filled me with sentimental emotions and my insteps ached at
the first glimpse of it; but I have that buoyancy within that carries
my feet over many a weary mile, and my companion, as ever, was very
interesting. I forget just what we talked about.
We were half way up the last hard bit of corduroy and my eyes as usual
were intent upon the logs when Mr. N. said abruptly:
“Look!”
I stopped at once and followed the direction of his glance. Before I
had time to wonder if he had seen a bear I saw, standing on the ledge
above, Mr. Rogers--and Bertie! The light was full upon them and I saw
in a flash that Bertie was stouter and had lost his terrible pallor. He
was not ruddy, but he was brown, and there was colour in his cheeks.
Polly, did you ever have a wild whirl of emotions inside of you while
you forced your exterior to be as impassive as a shell? I wanted to
give one of the war-whoops with which they call to one another up here,
and I felt so much like bursting into a storm of tears that I dared not
even speak.
When Bertie and I met we merely shook hands, and he remarked that he
was glad to see me back, but I knew he wanted to hug me. Then I gave
my hand to Mr. Rogers--and was just in time to see the look with which
my two knights were measuring each other.
I walked ahead with Bertie and he said that between the air and the
milk he certainly was getting well, and I found my voice and told him
that I never had felt so happy in my life. But my absorption in Bertie
was divided for the moment by a new surprise.
We had left the level stretch and were walking down the incline to
the boat landing (I had been too interested to notice that we had not
turned off into the path leading to our camp), when I stopped short
with half a sentence forgotten. Waiting at the pier was a gondola--a
gondola with silken curtains and cushions and an Italian gondolier.
Bertie laughed gaily at my startled face, for in truth I was afraid for
the moment that something in my brain had gone wrong.
“Rogers sent for it--to Chicago, of all places!” he said. “It is a
remnant of the World’s Fair.”
And then I remembered I once had said to Mr. Rogers that I could not
understand why they did not have gondolas on these beautiful lakes
instead of commonplace boats.
All my coquetry was enchanted and I turned to Mr. Rogers with such
a radiant face that he must have felt a bit rewarded. While I was
thanking him--glad of that much outlet for my excitement--and he was
making one of his charming speeches and looking so dignified and not
the least bit of an ass, I stole a glance at Mr. N. His face wore a
cynical grin that was almost sardonic.
Well, I gondolaed home and fell into Agatha’s arms, then discovered
Bertie’s welcome. He had--himself, mind you--tacked that most beautiful
of shrubs, the ground pine, all over the walls of the living-room. They
looked a mass of soft green and gold and the antlered heads of the deer
seemed to be set in their native woods. On the table was a great bunch
of crimson sweet peas--incomparably more fragrant than ours--sent by
Jemima, and a bowl of water-lilies from Mrs. Laurence.
After I had answered all of Agatha’s questions and assured her
that I was as well as ever--she thinks I am thin, but how I have
tramped!--Bertie and I went out and gondolaed round the lake. It was
just five o’clock. The men were going home from the tennis court, and
waved their hats at me and gave the unearthly wood call.
Then, suddenly, all the doors opened, and the women in their bright
muslin gowns flitted out and waved their handkerchiefs to me. It was a
pretty sight and a graceful act. Of course, I landed and they said a
great many of their charming things.
When I went home another surprise awaited me--in my room. On the table
was a box of splendid roses and an elaborate basket of chocolates tied
with yards of my favourite bright blue ribbon. Mr. Nugent’s card was
attached. Of course he had sent to New York for them.