“Do you suppose, little girl,” said Mrs. Easterfield, following her, “that I do not like flowers because I do like weeds?  Everything in its place; weeds are for the shady spots, but I keep my flowers out of such places.  This flower, for instance,” touching Olive on the cheek.  “And now let us go into the house and see what pleasant thing we can find to do there.”

In the afternoon the two ladies went out rowing on the river, and Mrs. Easterfield was astonished at Olive’s proficiency with the oar.  She had thought herself a good oarswoman, but she was nothing to Olive.  She good-naturedly acknowledged her inferiority, however.  How could she expect to compete with a navy girl? she said.

“Are you fond of swimming?” asked Olive, as she looked down into the bright, clear water.

“Oh, very,” said Mrs. Easterfield.  “But I am not allowed to swim in this river.  It is considered dangerous.”

Olive looked up in surprise.  It seemed odd that there should be anything that this bright, free woman was not allowed to do, or that there should be anybody who would not allow it.

Then followed some rainy days, and the first clear day Mrs. Easterfield told Olive that she would take her a drive in the afternoon.

“I shall drive you myself with my own horses,” she said, “but you need not be afraid, for I can drive a great deal better than I can row.  We must lose no time in seizing all the advantages of this Amazonian life, for to-morrow some of our guests will arrive, the Foxes and Mr. Claude Locker.”

“Who are the Foxes?” asked Olive.

“They are the pleasantest visitors that any one could have,” was the answer.  “They always like everything.  They never complain of being cold, nor talk about the weather being hot.  They are interested in all games, and they like all possible kinds of food that one can give them to eat.  They are always ready to go to bed when they think they ought to, and sit up just as long as they are wanted.  Of course, they have their own ideas about things, but they don’t dispute.  They take care of themselves all the morning, and are ready for anything you want to do in the afternoon or evening.  They have two children at home, but they never talk about them unless they are particularly asked to do so.  They know a great many people, and you can tell by the way they speak of them that they won’t talk scandal about you.  In fact, they are model guests, and they ought to open a school to teach the art of visiting.”

“And what about Mr. Claude Locker?”

Mrs. Easterfield laughed.  “Oh, he is different,” she said; “he is so different from the Poxes that words would not describe it.  But you won’t be long in becoming acquainted with him.”

The road over which the two ladies drove that afternoon was a beautiful one, sometimes running close to the river under great sycamores, then making a turn into the woods and among the rocks.  At last they came to a cross-road, which led away from the river, and here Mrs. Easterfield stopped her horses.