"Holnagrad!" Shelley exclaimed.

"What? You've heard of it?"

"Just yesterday. That's where the historical-society people here are from. Well, not exactly directly from, but their ancestors were."

"The historical — oh, Abe Lincoln and crowd. Are the girls making any progress? I'm starving."

After trying unsuccessfully to hurry their daughters, Shelley and Jane gave up waiting and went ahead. Although it was some distance to the lodge by road, there was a shoveled path running behind the cabins and alongside a crystal-clear stream. The path cut directly through the woods and came out behind the main building. Jane had only seen the front entrance the evening before and was astonished that daylight revealed a very large, sprawling building. The exterior was rough, of large logs and cedar shingles, but banks of spotless windows glittered in the sunlight. Rustic-chic, Jane would have called it if forced to sum up the style.

"There are all sorts of meeting rooms in that wing. There's even computer hookups, modems, and a mini-travel-agency service," Shelley said, acting the tour guide. "At the end is a really elegant restaurant that overlooks the lake this little stream runs into. In the central section there's an indoor pool, an outdoor pool for summer use, saunas, exercise rooms — no, don't panic, nobody's going to make you exercise — a casual restaurant, where we're headed, and a beauty shop. The wing that goes down the hill in stair-step fashion — you can't see much of it from here — has shops, game rooms, a library and a bookstore and I don't know what all else."

They entered through a door by the outside pool, passed alongside the indoor pool, where a few alarmingly healthy individuals were doing morning laps, and emerged into the central lobby just as Mel and the boys entered from the front.