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"Well, well," said the Captain when he was able to speak, after a series of chuckles that made him almost choke, "the next time that a picnic's in the wind I'd take care, if I were you, to overhaul your hamper before starting, to see that nothing is forgotten."
"I did come didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me.
"The family did what the rest of the gentry did, sir," said the man, staring at his master in utter bewilderment. "They gave dinner-parties and balls. And in fine summer weather, sir, like this, they sometimes had lawn-parties and picnics " "That'll do!" shouted Allan. "A picnic's just the thing to please her. Richard, you're an invaluable man; you may go downstairs again."
Anna gave a little start, and gazed earnestly out of the window at which she stood, as Isabel went up to the table and looked over Clara's shoulder. Then they did not know! Aunt Sarah had not told them. How strange it seemed! "W-well, I don't know," said Isabel, reflectively. "We never have asked him to anything; but a picnic's different. He's a very nice old man, isn't he?"
It reminded me, in a way, of our luncheon at Seabury's Pond, but that had been out of doors, an impromptu picnic, with all a picnic's surroundings. This was different, quite different. It was so familiar, so homelike, so conventional, and yet, for her and me, so impossible. I looked at her and she, looking up at the moment, caught my eyes. The color mounted to her cheeks.
The first clear proof of it which it still gives me a low sort of pleasure to recall was my prompt discovery, as we gathered around the tea-board, to eat the picnic's remains, that our Flora was out of humor with the Baron. It was plain that the whole day's flood of small experiences had been to her pretty vanity a Tantalus's cup.
"I did come didn't you see me?" "Why, no! Did you? Where did you sit?" "I was in Miss Peters' class, where I always go. I saw YOU." "Did you? Why, it's funny I didn't see you. I wanted to tell you about the picnic." "Oh, that's jolly. Who's going to give it?" "My ma's going to let me have one." "Oh, goody; I hope she'll let ME come." "Well, she will. The picnic's for me.
"You tell the boys that if I find this street scrawled over any more, the picnic's off." "Aw, Mr. "I mean it. Go and spend some of that chalk energy of yours in school." He put the boy down. There was a certain tenderness in his hands, as in his voice, when he dealt with children. All his severity did not conceal it. "Get along with you, Bill. Last bell's rung."
"Could we go on a picnic?" "No more picnic for you this week, young lady!" answered Mr. Merrill. "I should think you were wet enough last Saturday to last a while!" "But that wasn't the picnic's fault," explained Mary Jane, in distress, "that just happened, and I want to go on another picnic right away."
"She d be too proud to have tea with a bailiff, I expect; you never know how grown-ups will take the simplest things." It was Kathleen who said this. "Well, I'll tell you what," said Gerald, lazily turning on the stone bench. "You all go along, and meet your bailiff. A picnic's a picnic. And I'll wait for Mademoiselle."
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