seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Mr. Thurbyfil, this is Mr. Craigmile," said Martha. "You introduced
him as Mr. Junior, Betty."

"I didn't! Well, that's because I'm bashful. Come on, everybody,
mother's in." So they all climbed into the wagon and began to find
their places.

"Oh, father, have you the matches? The bottles are on the kitchen
table," exclaimed Martha.

"Don't get down, Mr. Ballard," said Lucien. "I'll get them. It would
never do to forget the bottles. Now, where's the little girl who was
to ride beside me?" and Janey crawled across the hay and settled
herself at her new friend's side. "Now I think we are beautifully
arranged," for Martha was on his other side.

"Very well, we're off," and Bertrand gathered up the reins and they
started.

"There they are. There's the other wagon," shouted Bobby. "We ought to
have a flag to wave."

Then Lucien, the correct, startled the party by putting his two
fingers in his mouth and whistling shrilly.

"They have such a load I wish Clara could ride with us," said Betty.
"Peter Junior, won't you get out and fetch her?"

So they all stopped and there were greetings and introductions and
much laughing and joking, and Peter Junior obediently helped Clara
Dean down and into the Ballards' wagon.

"Clara, Mr. Thurbyfil can whistle as loud as a train, through his
fingers, he can. Do it, Mr. Thurbyfil," said Bobby.

"Oh, I can do that," said Peter Junior, not to be outdone by the
stranger, and they all tried it. Bertrand and his wife, settled
comfortably on the high seat in front, had their own pleasure together
and paid no heed to the noisy crew behind them.

What a day! Autumn leaves and hazy distances, soft breezes and
sunlight, and miles of level road skirting woods and open fields where
the pumpkins lay yellow among the shocks of corn, and where the fence
corners were filled with flaming sumac, with goldenrod and purple
asters adding their softer coloring.

It was a good eight miles to Carter's woods, but they bordered the
river where the bluffs were not so high, and it would be possible to
build a fire on the river bank with perfect safety. Bertrand had
brought roasting ears from his patch of sweet corn, and as soon as
they arrived at their chosen grove, he and Mary leisurely turned their
attention to the preparing of the lunch with Mrs. Dean and Mrs.
Walters, leaving to the young people the gathering of the nuts.

Mrs. Dean, a s