Emma.

"Catch crabs, Aunt Emma!" said Milly, very much puzzled. "Crabs are only
in the sea, aren't they?"

"There's a very big kind just about here," said Mr. Norton, "and they're
always looking out for little children, particularly little girls."

"I don't understand, father," said Milly, opening her eyes very wide.

"Have some more tea, then," said Mr. Norton, "that always makes people
feel wiser."

"Father, aren't you talking nonsense?" said Olly, stopping in the middle
of a piece of cake to think about what his father was saying.

"Very likely, Olly. People always do at picnics. Aunt Emma, when are you
going to tell us your story?"

"When we've washed the things and put them away," said Aunt Emma, "then
Olly shall sing us two songs, and I'll tell you my story."

But the children were so hungry that it was a long time before they gave
up eating bread and butter, and then, when at last tea was over, what
fun it was washing the cups and plates in the lake! Aunt Emma and Olly
washed, and mother and Milly dried the things on a towel, and then
everything was packed away into the baskets, and mother and Aunt Emma
folded up the table-cloth, and put it tidily on the top of everything.

"I did like that," said Milly, sighing as the last basket was fastened
down. "I wish you'd let me help Sarah wash up the tea-things at home,
mother."

"If Sarah liked to let you, I shouldn't say no, Milly," said Mrs.
Norton. "How soon would you get tired of it, old woman, I wonder? But
come along, let's put Olly up on a rock, and make him sing, and then
we'll have Aunt Emma's story."

So they put Olly up on a tall piece of rock, and he sang "The Minstrel
Boy," and "Bonnie Dundee," and "Hot Cross Buns," just as if he were a
little musical box, and you had nothing to do but to wind him up. He had
a sweet, clear, little voice, and he looked a delightful brown gipsy, as
he sat perched up on the rock with his long legs dangling, and his curls
blowing about his face.

"There!" said Olly, when he had shouted out the last note of "Hot Cross
Buns." "I have singed three whole songs; and now, Aunt Emma, tell us
about the king and the fairies. Krick, please."

"It must be 'krick' indeed," said Aunt Emma, "if we want to get home
to-night."

For the sun had almost sunk behind the mountains at their back, and the
wind blowing across the lake was beginning to get a little cold, while
over their heads the rooks went flying, singing "caw, caw,"