Grace looked across the lake and frowned. She was a tall girl, and
although she had walked for some distance in the woods, her clothes were
hardly crumpled. Her face was finely molded, but rather colorless; her
hands were very white, while Barbara's were brown. Her dress and voice
indicated cultivated taste; but the taste was negative, as if Grace had
banished carefully all that jarred and then had stopped. It was
characteristic that she was tranquil, although she had grounds for
disturbance. They were some distance from camp and it would soon be
dark, but nothing broke the gleaming surface of the lake. The boat that
ought to have met them had not arrived.

"I suppose this is the spot where Harry Vernon agreed to land and take
us on board?" she said.

"It's like the spot. I understand we must watch out for a point opposite
an island with big trees."

"Watch out?" Grace remarked.

"Watch out is good Canadian," Barbara rejoined. "I'm studying the
language and find it expressive and plain. When our new friends talk you
know what they mean. Besides, I'd better learn their idioms, because I
might stop in Canada if somebody urged me."

Grace gave her a quiet look. Barbara meant to annoy her, or perhaps did
not want to admit she had mistaken the spot. Now Grace came to think
about it, the plan that the young men should meet them and paddle them
down the lake was Barbara's.