ancy and Rhody Mills went with _them_. I couldn't
find out if Race Miller was going or not; but I didn't hear of his
inviting anybody else. Calanthy roasted a nice pair of chickens for us,
and her biscuits were as light as a feather _this_ time, and I made some
_real nice_ cake, and Calanthy iced it for me; it looked beautiful!
Polly Jane came home from the Hollow Tuesday afternoon, and said that
Widow Burt had her senses, and was lying still and comfortable. She
appeared to know all that had been done for her, and was very thankful;
but Dr. Basset had forbidden her to speak much. He let her take hold of
Jim's hand and tell him she felt better, and the poor fellow went out in
the shed, and cried like a baby. Race Miller stepped in just then. He
always seemed to happen along at the right minute, and he set Jim to
work cleaning some fish he'd caught. The thought of a good dinner soon
made Jim laugh again; but that's the way with simpletons, you know.

I do believe there never _was_ a lovelier morning than that Wednesday.
It was as clear as a bell, but not nearly as hot as the week before. If
the day had been made on purpose for a picnic, it couldn't have been a
better one. I felt so glad Widow Burt was like to get well, and that
father had consented to let me ride with Ned Hassel, and that my cake
was so handsome, and everything else so good, I didn't know how to be
happy enough! I went singing about the house till it was time to dress
myself, and when I got on my blue muslin and my clean white mantilla,
and had smoothed my hair till it shone like satin under the new rosettes
in my round hat, I _did_ think I looked pretty nice. I couldn't help it;
and when Ned drove up a little after nine o'clock, I felt as if all was
going right at last. The girls kissed me good-by, and when father helped
me in the wagon, I saw the tears standing in his eyes. He always said I
favored mother very much, and I suppose he was thinking of _her_. He
only said:

'Take good care of Dimpey, Ned!'

'Yes, sir,' said Ned, 'I will.'

And as I took my seat at his side, he whispered:

'If there's a prettier girl at this picnic than Dimpey Swift, I'd like
to see her. You look like an angel, Dimpey! but I hope you haven't any
_wings_, for we couldn't spare you just now!'

I was delighted at this nonsense; but I was young and foolish, and
didn't sense what a goose Ned was with all his fine compliments.

The brown mare went along so fast, I thought