"I must go and tell the girls, for they will want to know."

When the roomy buckboard came to the door, Nathalie jumped into the front seat and gathered up the reins.

"Hurry and get in, girls," she called. "The horses are very fresh this morning," and in a moment more they were bowling down the avenue.

"Stop at the inn, Nat," said Jean, "and we will get the letters, and ask Mollie to go down to the beach with us."

As they pulled up before the inn, Mollie Andrews came running out on to the porch, with a package of letters in her hand.

"Don't get out, Jean; I have your mail. Have you got room enough for me?"

"Certainly. Jump right in," cried Nathalie. "The 16 tide is just right now, so we must hurry. Oh! isn't this jolly? I love the delicious sense of excitement one always feels at the first swim of the season. Say, Moll, will you go in?"

16

"I don't know. Yes, I think I will."

It was quite a pretty scene, this bright June morning, down on the little stretch of sands which Hetherford dignified by the name of "The Beach."

Little children were digging in the sand and filling their pails, and some of the small boys were running up and down, now in the water, and now out. The girls were in a group in front of the bathing houses, all chattering at once, and discussing the momentous question as to whether to make the plunge or not.

In a brief time Jean and Nathalie were swimming far out, and Mollie came creeping timidly to the water's edge.

"Oh! how I dread it," she laughed.

"Nonsense, Moll; go ahead. It will do you good."

Mollie walked off, and Helen and Eleanor, who had found a sheltered nook, watched the bathers for a while in silence. By and by Helen's gaze strayed from the bathers to the stretch of blue water beyond, and a slightly troubled look crept into her eyes. A sudden, deep sigh recalled Eleanor's thoughts to her companion.

"Why, Helen, what world of melancholy does that sigh proclaim?"

"Oh, I don't know," evasively. "I am 

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