CHAPTER VI--THE PICNIC

Mr. Weston had gone to market two days after Helen Dayton's call upon Randy. He had laughed heartily at the description of the exact kind of shade hat which Randy wished for, and as he drove off he continued to laugh as Mrs. Weston called after him, "Remember, she wants a white hat; don't, for mercy's sake, come home with a brown one."

"And, father," shrieked Randy, "remember to get a big one and one that isn't too coarse."

"Yes, yes, land sakes! I b'lieve I'll bring ye home a dozen to pick from," and the good man chuckled to himself--he had his own plan for doing Randy's errand. His eggs and vegetables disposed of, he turned to start for home, when he ejaculated, "Bless me! if I didn't most forgit Randy's hat." Back into the store he went. "What have ye got for hats?" said Mr. Weston. "My Randy's set her mind on havin' a fine shade hat for the picnic, and nothin' but a white one will do."

Silas Barnes reached under his counter and brought forth a dozen straw hats, which lie spread out for Mr. Weston to select from.

"Wal', that beats all! Randy and her mother told me just how it ought to look, but I don't see any difference in 'em, do you, Barnes?"

"Why, yes," replied the genial storekeeper, "that one's twice as fine as the other, an' it's worth twice as much."

"Wal', I guess it's 'bout good enough for Randy, then, and I'll take it."

When her father returned that night Randy met him at the door, and with a little cry of delight took the parcel which he handed her, and she could not find words to express her pleasure when the fresh, white hat lay before her on the table.

"Dear me! Ye might have had one before, if it delights ye so," said her mother; "I didn't think of it before, because most every girl here wears a sunbonnet."

"Well, I've got it now," said Randy, "and to-morrow I'll go over to Miss Dayton's and she'll trim it for me; she said she would." On the following day, true to her promise, Helen gave Randy a cordial welcome, and trimmed the hat with some gay ribbons which, although not new, were very pretty, and to Randy seemed nothing short of gorgeous.

On the day of the picnic no happier heart than Randy Weston's beat fast with anticipation; and with Prue's hand held tightly in her own she started, as they had planned, for Mrs. Gray's house to join Helen.

"Don't forget to take care of Prue," called her mother.

"I won't forget," answered Randy.

Mr. Weston stepped back into the house after watching the children until a bend in the road concealed them from view, and sat down for a moment before going out to the field. "I tell ye what, mother," said he, "I mean those girls shall have a chance. I'd no idee what a difference there was between a hat and a sunbunnit. I say, why don't you have a new bunnit yourself, mother? You were every bit as pretty as our Randy when you were young, and I b'lieve you'd look a good deal the same now, with a little fixin'. Just see the difference in Randy with a bran' new hat! When we was a-payin' off the mortgage we had to scrimp; but now, I think ye might have a few duds, once in a while."

He stopped, expecting a rebuff, and was surprised when his wife turned with a sweet smile and said, "I b'lieve I will have just a few things."

"Ye can have what ye want," was the hearty rejoinder, "and we'll go to the village next week and do some shoppin'," and with a jolly whistle he started for the barn.

When they arrived at Mrs. Gray's, the children were surprised to find almost every man, woman, and child who had been invited to the picnic already there, and, as they were all talking at once, it was impossible to understand what any one person was saying.

Very conscious of her new hat was Randy, and she longed to find Helen that she might talk with her. She knew that any one with whom she stopped to speak would mention her new finery, so she only nodded pleasantly to the girls whom she passed, and walked toward the house, hoping there to find Helen. Helen saw her and came out to meet her; but as Randy passed the Babson girls, she heard Phoebe Small say to them: "Look at Randy Weston! Isn't she getting fine!"

"Dunno how fine she is," responded Belinda Babson; "but I don't see as she need walk right by us, just because she's got a new hat."

Poor Randy! She had not the least idea of being vain or silly. "Why need the girls spoil the fun of my having a new hat," said she, and a hot flush crept up on her cheek, but soon Helen's merry chatter caused Randy to forget Phoebe's unkindness, and she was laughing and talking as gayly as Helen herself.

Miss Dobbs, the little soprano of the choir, hearing Randy's laugh, turned and smiled, an unusual thing for her to do, saying: "How are ye, Randy? That's a dreadful pretty hat."

"I like it," said Randy, simply, although her eyes showed her delight that some one should approve of it. "Miss Dayton trimmed it for me; didn't she do it lovely?" continued Randy, anxious that her new friend should have all the glory which belonged to her for her millinery skill.

"Umph!" ejaculated Miss Dobbs, "they do say you're pretty int'mit with Miss Dayton, considering she's from the city." Randy moved away, pleased with the compliment for her hat, but hurt by the last remark. "'Considering she's from the city,'" thought Randy. "Anybody'd think I asked her to be pleasant to me. Why, I wouldn't have dared to. She wanted to be nice, and I was glad enough to let her," and she brushed away a tear and forced back a sob which rose in her throat.

Just then something happened to cheer Randy and give her a wee bit of triumph.

Phoebe Small moved toward Randy and fastening her small eyes disapprovingly upon the offending hat, she was about to speak, when, without noticing Phoebe at all, Jotham Potts walked awkwardly up to Randy, and, standing upon one foot, then shifting to the other, he said: "Morning, Randy! Be you going to walk to the picnic or ride? Because," he continued, "I told father I'd like to have you ride with us, seein's we have a spare seat, and he said he'd be pleased to have your company. Will ye come, Randy? I do wish ye would."

"I'd like to, and thank you," answered Randy, sweetly, with a blush and a glance at Phoebe Small, who pretended not to have heard, "but I promised to go in Mr. Gray's team with Miss Dayton, so I'll have to."

"I wish ye was goin' with us, but as ye can't, I'll see ye at the picnic," said Jotham, and he turned to get into his father's wagon; then, stepping back to where Randy was standing, he blushed, and from his pocket produced a little package.

"Here, Randy," he said, "I brought this a purpose for you to enjoy durin' the ride, so I guess I'll give it to ye now."

"Oh, thank you," said Randy, "how good you are," and that so completely overcame Jotham that he retired in confusion. By this time the party was about ready to start. The choir had decided to go in the first wagon and enliven the way by singing, and were still discussing as to a selection from their scant repertoire.

"Ye needn't ask me to join ye," said Silas Barnes, "and sing 'Chany,'"--he meant China--"for I don't think that's gay enough for a picnic."

Miss Hobson suggested that they might please Mr. Barnes by singing "Yankee Doodle." This was meant to suggest that Silas Barnes was too frivolous, but he did not, apparently, feel injured, as he laughingly answered that he would "rather be patriotic than mournful, and he reely guessed they'd better settle upon 'Yankee Doodle,' as Miss Hobson suggested."

On one end of the door-stone old Mrs. Perkins had just convinced her neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, that it was just the right time of the year to gather 'pennyroyal' and mouse-ear, and so have them a-drying, and Mrs. Buffum had gathered the six little Buffums under her wing by uttering this awful threat:--

"Johnny! Johnny Buffum! do you and Hitty want to go to the picnic? Katie! do you and Jack and Sophy and Ann want to stay at home? Well, then, come here, or the first thing you'll know the wagons'll go without ye!"

From all directions the six young Buffums rushed and crowded closely around their mother. Stay at home from their first picnic? Never!

At last every one had arrived, and they lost no time in clambering into the waiting wagons; then away they jogged toward the grove.

Farmer Gray had taken his wife and Helen Dayton, Randy and little Prue in one wagon, and had told his other boarders that they were welcome to fill his two remaining wagons, allotting places as they chose.

The wagon with the choir had started first, and Randy and Helen could still faintly hear the stirring strains of "Yankee Doodle." Randy sat with sparkling eyes, enjoying the ride as she had never enjoyed one before. Had she not a fine new hat? Was she not beside the beautiful Miss Dayton? and had not Jotham, to the envy of the other girls, given her a package purchased expressly for her?

"What you got in your bundle what Jotham gave you, Randy?" asked Prue. "Will you let me see?"

"Yes, do let us see," said Helen Dayton; "I know it must be something nice."

So Randy untied the package and found a lot of huge pink and white peppermints, which Prue at once commenced to help her eat. Helen pronounced them to be very nice, but as she never liked peppermints, politely excused herself from eating them by saying that she must save her appetite for the spread at the picnic.

Along the dusty road they jogged, Randy never minding the heat, Helen feeling it intensely, even with the protection of her dainty ruffled parasol. Sometimes they rode under overhanging boughs which made long, cool shadows across the road, then over a sunny, dusty stretch with only a fringe of daisies by the roadside and a chain of hazy blue hills in the distance.

The occupants of one wagon would chat merrily with those in the wagon behind them; and so, with sunny and shady roads, with laughter and song, they at last reached the grove.

The horses were unharnessed and tethered with a rope long enough to permit them to graze. The baskets of lunch were all placed in one large wagon which stood in the shade of a huge tree. Then intimate friends and neighbors formed little groups and sat under the trees and chatted together, delighted to have this little outing. The children played hide-and-seek behind the tree trunks, and those farmers who had left their work to enjoy the holiday talked over their crops, their cattle, and the price of produce when disposed of at the village store.

The Babson girls were each trying in an awkward fashion to win favor in the eyes of Reuben Jenks, who Phoebe Small declared "had a hull basketful of maple sugar stored away under the seat of his father's wagon."

When Reuben had spoken of the picnic his mother, who was, to express it mildly, a frugal woman, had said that she, for one, didn't approve of picnics. "Folks eat four times as much at a picnic as they do at home, and ain't no better satisfied," she declared; but after much urging she consented to go, saying: "A lot of maple sugar'll be all I'll take. Sweets take away folks' appetites, and folks that eat my maple sugar won't want much else."

But try as they would, neither Belinda's nor Jemima's blandishments brought forward any of the desired sugar. Now Reuben liked the girls well enough, and his boyish vanity was pleased by their evident liking for his society. He was a generous little fellow and would gladly have treated his friends, but his mother's eyes were upon him, and he said afterward, he "just didn't dare."

Jotham Potts, hearing Helen say that she liked water cresses, gallantly offered to go and find some, assuring her that he knew just where they grew.

Helen, Randy, and Prue sat under a large tree, and Helen promised, since Randy was so charmed with fairy tales, to tell some which she knew they had never heard. She told them tales from Grimm's wonderful book, pleasantly answering Prue's funny questions regarding them. When she related the story of the "Gold Children," little Prue's eyes dilated with wonder.

"It's just beautiful," said Randy.

"If they were clear, solid gold how could they move or stir?" asked Prue.

Helen laughed, and patted the little girl's cheek as she said: "Dear little girl, you mustn't ask questions which have no answers. Remember the fairy tales are not true, only amusing."

Having told story after story, Helen became a bit weary, and she proposed that the children should gather a few flowers, saying that she would twine them into a lovely wreath for Prue's curly head.

Off went the children to search for the finest blossoms to heap in Helen's lap. Soon little Prue hastened back with three large daisies and a buttercup, asking if they were quite enough to make a wreath. "No, indeed," said Helen, "I must have ever so many more."

Away ran Prue, shouting to the children, "Miss Dayton says it takes a nawful lot more." Soon other children came running to Helen with little hands full of buttercups and daisies, until she cried, "Enough, more than enough!" and commenced the weaving of the wreath.

The children watched her dainty fingers, as with airy grace they fashioned it, and when she twined the ends of the garland together, and placed the finished wreath upon Prue's head, their delight knew no bounds.

"Oh, Miss Dayton, you can do anything, can't you?" said Belinda Babson.

"Oh, no, indeed!" said Helen, "there are many, many things which I cannot do."

Then they spread the table-cloth upon the grass, and "put the picnic on it," as Prue said. Prue's idea of a picnic was a lunch out of doors, and until the luncheon made its appearance, she felt that the picnic had not even commenced. Then suddenly clapping her chubby hands, and dancing in a manner which threatened to dislodge her flower crown, she said, "May I wear this wreath while I eat my lunch?"

"Oh, do," said Helen, "it is really very becoming."

Every one seemed anxious that Helen should sit as guest of honor at the spread, so, with children on either side, she took her place, and deftly put each one present at ease with her bright, pleasant conversation; now saying a kind word to old Mrs. Dewing, that she might not feel neglected, or laughing lightly at Farmer Morse's clumsy wit, noticing Randy's gentle manner with her little sister, and at the same time, with ready tact, seeming unmindful of the practised hand with which Jack Marden handled his pie with his knife.

So with laughter and gay chatter the lunch was eaten and cleared away, and some one proposed some games.

"Let's play 'On the green carpet,'" said Phoebe Small, and a chorus of voices echoed: "Oh, yes! Let's play that first;" so, joining hands, they sang the old tune as they danced about Helen, whom they insisted should first stand in the centre.

"And choose the one That you love best,"

sang the children.

"I choose Randy," said Helen, much to Randy's delight.

"Give her a kiss and send her away, And tell her you'll call another day,"

sang the gay little troop, and Helen stooped, and taking Randy's sweet face between her hands she kissed her and slipped from the ring. Around and about Randy they circled, and then she must choose. She longed to choose Helen, and turned toward her, but Helen said, "We must not keep choosing each other, Randy, because it is more fun to change about," so Randy turned with a puzzled face, wondering whom to choose. Seeing the little sister's eager face, she decided at once. "I choose you, pussy," said she.

Into the ring sprang Prue. "Oh, Randy," said the child, "you did love me best, didn't you?"

"Of course," said Randy; "but now we know, Prue, that you love me best, you choose the one you love next best, because that's the way to play it;" so, wondering much whom the child would favor, Randy left her in the circle. But it did not take dear little Prue a great while to decide.

"Next to Randy, I guess I like you, Jotham, so I choose you," said the child. Every one laughed except Jotham, who, seeing the little girl's lip quiver, said awkwardly, yet very kindly, "You're a nice little girl, Prue, and I'm real proud to have you choose me;" at which Prue's spirits rose, and, turning with one little hand in Jotham's, she said: "You needn't have laughed if I did choose a big boy. He's very nice, and 'most always gives Randy candy, and she gives some to me."

This so amused every one that they commenced to pet Prue, and, much to Jotham's delight, the game ended, for he felt that he could have chosen none but Randy as his favorite among his friends, and he realized that this would have been a trying ordeal for his diffidence.

Many games they played that sunny afternoon, and so fast flew the hours that every one was surprised when Deacon Turnbull pulled out his great, old-fashioned "timepiece" and declared that it "wanted a quarter to six, and that they ought to be hitchin' up and startin' toward home."

So the baskets and pails were packed into the wagons, the horses harnessed, and the merry, tired party started homeward.

Some of the picnickers were jolly, singing as they went along, others were too tired to sing; but all were unanimous in voting the picnic a success, many declaring that it was just wonderful how Miss Dayton planned it, and that they didn't know when they'd had such a good time. The ride with Helen was delightful to the two children, Randy looking admiringly at Helen all the way and talking little. She was really too happy for conversation.

Not so with little Prue. She sat between Helen and Randy, and all the way home her chatter was interspersed with snatches of the songs which had been a part of their games.

"'On the green carpet here we stand, Take your true love by the hand, Give her a kiss and send her away, And tell her--'

"That's just the best picnic I ever saw, wasn't it, Randy?"

Before Randy could answer, out rang the childish treble again:--

"'Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, Sailor in er boat when the tide runs high, Waiting for a pretty girl to--'

"Oh, Miss Dayton, don't you think Jotham's 'most as nice as a prince? I do," said Prue, without waiting for an answer, although she looked up in Miss Dayton's face expectantly.

Helen took Prue's little dimpled hand in her own as she said: "All princes are not good, although many of them are very, very good indeed. Jotham has a good face, and I am sure when I really know him I shall like him very much. If he grows to be a good, brave, true man, that is worth much more than being a prince."

"Yes'm," said Prue, not quite catching Helen's meaning, yet vaguely understanding that Jotham was fully appreciated. Prue's curly head swayed a little, like a tired flower; and Helen, slipping her arm around her, drew her toward her, and soon the little girl's head lay against her new friend.

Still she sang, although drowsily:--

"'Oh, what a beautiful choice you've made, Don't you wish you'd longer stayed?'"

The last line was drawled out so slowly that Randy said, "Oh, wake up, Prue, you're asleep."

"I guess I ain't sleepy, but my eyes feel 's if--" she was now really asleep just as they reached Farmer Gray's door.

Mr. Weston was waiting in the dooryard with his own team to take the children home, and, after an exchange of remarks with Mr. Gray regarding the weather and bluff, but hearty thanks to Miss Dayton for the children's day of pleasure, he took little Prue in his arms, and, placing her in Randy's lap, gathered up the reins, and with a resounding "g'lang there" the old mare ambled toward home.

Mrs. Weston was at the door when they arrived. "Well, Randy," said she, smiling.

"Oh, mother!" cried Randy, "it was just splendid, and we had such good times all day."

"What! Prue asleep?"

"No," said little Prue, "I ain't asleep, but my eyes feel funny, and we had gingerbread and peppermints, and cold sausage and lemonade, and 'On the--green--carpet,' and I chose Jotham, and I had a wreath and some maple sugar, and it was all made of daisies and butter--cups--and--and," but here she lost the thread of her story, and was carried upstairs and put in her bed.