THE FOURTH OF JULY. 181

Bessie—I don’t think I have, father. I was
a little too proud, that is all.

Mr. Starr—Yes, Bessie, that was just the
truth, and now that you confess it we will say
no more about it.

There was now a loud shout heard from the
people on the back benches nearer to the river.
“Fire! Fire!” The party from the brown
cottage turned and beheld a fire on Bessie’s
Island. The log-house was all in a blaze, and
although it was a small building, it illuminated
the water for a great distance, and sent up
sparks and cinders into the air, rivalling the
fireworks which they had so lately seen on the
lawn.

“Tom’s house! Poor fellow!” exclaimed
Bessie, while Tom stood silent with astonish-
ment. There was no fire on the island in the
morning when he was there with his father.
How could it have happened !

“Let us take the boat and go over,” said
Howard.

“Mrs. Cramer will not like it if you are
not here, Howard, at her splendid supper, to
which we shall soon be summoned by music.” ©