rs, while
the rest of them were having a good time. Then some one asked where
the lemons were that I was to bring, and I had to confess that they
were at home in the store, and dinner was kept waiting another two
hours while a man took my horse and went for those lemons. I walked
about all the time he was gone, and was dry enough by the time the
lemonade was made to wish I had some. But the water had shrunk my
clothes so that the legs of my pantaloons and the arms of my coat were
about six inches too short, while my boots, which had been rather
tight in the first place, made my feet feel as if they were in a
red-hot iron vise. I couldn't face all those giggling girls, and I
got down behind a tree and the tears came in my eyes, I felt so
miserable.

Belle was a tease, but she wasn't heartless; she got two plates,
heaped with nice things, and two tumblers of lemonade, and sat down by
my side coaxing me to eat, and telling me how sorry she was that I had
had my pleasure destroyed by an accident.

I had a piece of spring chicken, but being too bashful to masticate it
properly, I attempted to swallow it whole. It stuck!--she had to pat
me on the back--I became purple and kicked about wildly, ruining her
new sash by upsetting both plates. She became seriously alarmed, and
ran for aid; two of the fellows stood me on my head and pounded the
soles of my feet, by which wise course the morsel was dislodged, and
"Richard was himself again."

After the excitement had partially subsided, the punster of the
village--there is always one punster in every community--broke out
with:

"Oh, swallow, swallow, flying South, fly to her and tell her what I
tell to thee."

The girls laughed; I looked and saw Belle trying to wipe the ice-cream
from her sash.

"Never mind the sash, Miss Marigold," I said, in desperation, "I'll
send you another to-morrow. But if you'll excuse me, I'll go home now.
I'm not well, and mother'll be alarmed about me--I ought not to have
left father alone to tend store, and I feel that I've taken cold. I
presume some of these folks will have a spare seat, and my boots have
shrunk, and I don't care for picnics as a general thing, anyway. My
clothes are shrinking all the time, and I think we're going to have a
thunder-shower, and I guess I'll go."--and I went.

CHAPTER II.

HE MAKES AN EVENING CALL.

It's very provoking to a bashful man to have the family pew only one
remove from the pulpit. I didn't