was seething like a poison within her. But presently she was
mechanically promising sandwiches, and Rose was so far encouraged that
she could give Martie's arm a little squeeze in farewell.

It had seemed such a natural thing to propose, when Sally announced
that she was to go down to San Francisco for the day. Martie had asked
for the two older children, and had in all innocence suggested to
Clifford that they make it a picnic. She carried all day a burning
resentment of Rose's interference, and something like anger at him for
consulting Rose.

But she showed nothing. She duly kissed Rose, and thanked her for the
lovely dinner, and Rodney took her home. Undressing, with moonlight
pouring in two cool triangles on the shabby carpet, Martie yawned. The
whole experience had been curiously flat, except for Rose's little
parting impertinence. But there was no question about it, it had had
its heartening significance! It was the future Mrs. Clifford Frost who
had been entertained to-night.

Plans for the picnic proceeded rapidly, and Martie knew, as they
progressed, that she need only give Cliff his opportunity that day to
enter into her kingdom. His eagerness to please her, his unnecessary
calls at the Library to discuss the various details, and the little
hints and jests that fluttered about her on all sides, were a sure clue.

The morning came when the Frost's big car squeaked down the raw
driveway from Clipper Lane, with little Ruth, in starched pink gingham,
beaming on the back seat. Martie, in white, with a daisy-crowned hat
mashed down over her bright hair, came out from the shadow of the side
porch, the children and boxes were duly distributed: they were off.

Martie glanced back to see Lydia's slender form, in a severe gray
percale, under one of the lilacs in the side yard. Mary and Jim Hawkes
were with her: they all waved hands. Lydia had shaded her face with her
fingers, and was blinking in the warm June sunlight. Poor Lydia, Martie
thought, she should have been beside Cliff on this front seat, she
should have been the happy mother of a sturdy Cliff and Lydia, where
Ruth and Teddy and the Hawkes children were rioting in the tonneau.

They went to the Parkers', where the other cars had gathered: there was
much laughing and running about in the bright sunlight. The day would
be hot--ideal picnic weather. Rodney, directing everybody, managed to
get close to Martie, who was stacking coats in the car.

"Like old