ht of and
considered?" Neale demanded. "If not, they might as well have been stuck
on behind like a knapsack, or like our shoulder-blades.

"I say, Mrs. MacCall," proceeded the irrepressible boy. "Plenty of baked
beans and fishcakes for supper to-night. I see very plainly that these
girls have brought very little to eat along of a solid character. I
shall be hungry when we get back."

At that moment Tess cried: "Oh, poor Tom Jonah!" And Dot echoed her:
"Poor Tom Jonah!"

"Look how eager he is!" cried Agnes.

The big dog stood at the gate. Old as he was, the idea of an outing
pleased him immensely. He was always delighted to go picnicking with the
Corner House girls; but as the legend on his collar proclaimed, Tom
Jonah was a gentleman, and nobody had invited him to go on this
occasion.

"Oh, Ruth! let him come!" cried the three younger girls in chorus.

"Why not?" added Agnes.

"Well, I don't know," said Ruth.

"It will be a long march for him," said Neale, doubtfully. "He'll get
left behind. The horses are fast."

"Well, you are the one to see that he isn't left behind, Neale O'Neil,"
asserted Ruth.

"All right," said the boy, meekly, but winking at Uncle Rufus and Mrs.
MacCall. Neale had wanted the old dog to go all the time, and his remark
had turned the scale in Tom Jonah's favor.

"Come, boy! you can go, too," Ruth announced as the horses started.

Tom Jonah uttered a joyful bark, circled the carriage and pair two or
three times in the exuberance of his delight, and then settled down to a
steady pace under the rear axle. Neale saw to it that the lively ponies
did not travel too fast for the old dog.

The carriage rattled across Main Street and out High Street. The town
was soon left behind, Neale following the automobile road along which
ran the interurban electric tracks to Fleeting and beyond.

"Oh, yes!" said Agnes, gloomily. "I know this is the way to Fleeting,
Neale O'Neil. Wish I'd never been there."

"Has Mr. Marks ever said anything further to you girls about Bob
Buckham's strawberries?" asked her boy friend.

"No. But you see, we haven't played any more outside games, either. And
I _know_ they'll give _The Carnation Countess_ this winter and we won't
any of us be allowed to play in it."

"I'm going to be a bee," announced Dot, seriously, "if they have the
play. I'll have wings and a buzzer."

"A buzzer?" demanded Tess. "What's that?"

"Well, bees buzz, don't they? If they make bees