Below the bungalow the three-mile lake,
a mile and a half across--the transfigured
Bowl--was still a softly glowing
pearl, treasured in cotton-wool mists which
entirely hid its real framing of lofty hills.

"When the mountains cease playing
blindman's buff with each other, then--then
it will be time for our morning swim,
won't it? The first real swim of the season,
too," murmured Tomoke, the signaling
maiden, nestling coaxingly near to the presiding
Guardian.

"Yes, if you think the water will be
warm enough."

"Oh! it was quite warm yesterday when
we paddled but around the float--the
floating pier." Jessie, who was tempting
the feathered Santa Claus, pampered captive
under her arm, with every tidbit she
could think of, from cereal to lake-cod
caught by the girls themselves, looked down
at that buoyant pier--a golden raft, at
the moment--tossing a dozen yards from
the base of a fifteen-foot cliff where the
[[195]]

p194 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p195w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p196

v?