was a certain amusing fitness in the
latter's habit of calling her "My baby."

"You have a very pleasant day for your picnic, Mr. Burr," said she.

"Yes, we are very lucky," replied Henry, his eyes following Madeline's
movements as she stood before the glass, putting on her hat, which had a
red feather in it.

To have her thus add the last touches to her toilet in his presence was a
suggestion of familiarity, of domesticity, that was very intoxicating to
his imagination.

"Is your father well?" inquired Mrs. Brand, affably.

"Very well, thank you, very well indeed," he replied

"There; now I'm ready," said Madeline. "Here's the basket, Henry.
Good-bye, mother."

They were a well-matched pair, the stalwart young man and the tall,
graceful girl, and it is no wonder the girl's mother stood in the door
looking after them with a thoughtful smile.

Hemlock Hollow was a glen between wooded bluffs, about a mile up the
beautiful river on which Newville was situated, and boats had been
collected at the rendezvous on the river-bank to convey the picnickers
thither. On arriving, Madeline and Henry found all the party assembled
and in capital spirits; There was still just enough shadow on their
merriment to leave the disposition to laugh slightly in excess of its
indulgence, than which no condition of mind more favourable to a good
time can be imagined.

Laura was there, and to her Will Taylor had attached himself. He was a
dapper little black-eyed fellow, a clerk in the dry-goods store, full of
fun and good-nature, and a general favourite, but it was certainly rather
absurd that Henry should be apprehensive of him as a rival. There also
was Fanny Miller, who had the prettiest arm in Newville, a fact
discovered once when she wore a Martha Washington toilet at a masquerade
sociable, and since circulated from mouth to mouth among the young men.
And there, too, was Emily Hunt, who had shocked the girls and thrown the
youth into a pleasing panic by appearing at a young people's party the
previous winter in low neck and short sleeves. It is to be remarked in
extenuation that she had then but recently come from the city, and was
not familiar with Newville etiquette. Nor must I forget to mention Ida
Lewis, the minister's daughter, a little girl with poor complexion and
beautiful brown eyes, who cherished a hopeless passion for Henry. Among
the young men was Harry Tuttle, the clerk in the confectionery and fancy
goods store, a yo