The day appointed for the long-planned excursion to the beautiful
Lake of Tilly came round. A numerous and cheerful water-party left
the Manor House in the bright, cool morning to spend the day
gipsying in the shady woods and quiet recesses of the little lake.
They were all there: Amelie's invitation to her young friends far
and near had been eagerly accepted. Half a dozen boats and canoes,
filled with light-hearted companions and with ample provisions for
the day, shot up the narrow river, and after a rapid and merry
voyage, disembarked their passengers and were drawn up on the shores
and islands of the lake.
That bright morning was followed by a sunny day of blue skies, warm
yet breezy. The old oaks wove a carpet of shadows, changing the
pattern of its tissue every hour upon the leaf-strewn floor of the
forest. The fresh pines shed their resinous perfume on every side
in the still shade, but out in the sunshine the birds sang merrily
all day.
The groups of merrymakers spent a glorious day of pleasure by the
side of the clear, smooth lake, fishing and junketing on shore, or
paddling their birch canoes over its waters among the little islands
which dotted its surface.
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