it. Hand me the eggs, Fred."

"Here they are," cried Flora, going towards the fire with a basket.

She looked very sweet at that moment, for the active operations in which
she had been engaged had flushed her cheeks and brightened her eyes.

George and Fred gazed at her in undisguised admiration. Becoming
suddenly aware of the impoliteness of the act, the former ran to relieve
her of the basket of eggs; the latter blushed, and all but upset the
kettle in an effort to improve the condition of the fire.

"Fred, you goose, leave alone, will you?" roared George, darting forward
to prevent the catastrophe.

"This is really charming, is it not, Mr Macgregor?" said Mrs Sudberry,
with a languid smile.

"Macdonald, madam, if I may be allowed to correct you," said Hector,
with a smile and a little bow.

"Ah, to be sure!" (with an attempt at a laugh.) "I have such a stupid
habit of misnaming people."

If Mrs Sudberry had told the exact truth she would have said, "I have
such difficulty in remembering people's names that I have made up my
mind to call people by any name that comes first into my head rather
than confess my forgetfulness." But she did not say this; she only went
on to observe that she had no idea it would have been so charming.

"To what do you refer?" said Hector,--"the scenery, the weather, or the
prospect of dinner?"

"Oh! you shocking man, how _can_ you talk of food in the same breath
with--"

"The salt!" exclaimed Lucy with a little shriek. Was there ever a
picnic at which the salt was not forgotten, or supposed to have been
forgotten? Never!

Mr Sudberry's cheerful countenance fell. He had never eaten an egg
without salt in his life, and did not believe in the possibility of
doing so. Everyone ransacked everything in anxious haste.

"Here it is!" (hope revived.)

"No, it's only the pepper." (Mitigated despair and ransacking
continued.)

"Maybe it'll be in this parcel," suggested McAllister, holding up one
which had not yet been untied.

"Oh! bring it to me, Mr Macannister!" cried Mrs Sudberry with unwonted
energy, for her happiness was dependent on salt that day, coupled, of
course, with weather and scenery. "Faugh! no, it's your horrid onions,
Mr MacAndrews."

"Why, you have forgotten the potato salad, Mr Macdonald," exclaimed
Lucy.

"No, I have not: it can be made in five minutes, but not without salt.
Where _can_ the salt be? I am certain it could not have been
forgotten.