sat down on the sofa, and the others
followed her example. Rosy Posy, hugging Boffin, scrambled up into a big
armchair, and settled herself to listen.

"It is an old story," went on Mr. Maynard, "and the point of it is that
if the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet must needs go to the
mountain. But to-day I propose to reverse the story, and since you four
sad, forlorn-looking Mahomets can't go to the picnic, why then, the
picnic must come to you. And here it is!"

As Mr. Maynard spoke--indeed he timed his words purposely--their own
carriage drove up to the front door, and, flying to the window, Marjorie
saw some children getting out of it. Though bundled up in raincoats and
caps, she soon recognized Gladys and Dick Fulton and Dorothy Adams.

In a moment they all met in the hall, and the laughter and shouting
effectually banished the last trace of disappointment from the young
Maynards' faces.

"Did you come for the picnic?" said Marjorie to Gladys, in amazement.

"Yes; your father telephoned early this morning,--before breakfast,--and
he said the picnic would be in the house instead of in the woods. And he
sent the carriage for us all."

"Great! Isn't it?" said Dick Fulton, as he helped his sister off with
her mackintosh. "I thought there'd be no picnic, but here we are."

"Here we are, indeed!" said Mr. Maynard, who was helping Dorothy Adams
unwind an entangling veil, "and everybody as dry as a bone."

"Yes," said Dorothy, "the storm is awful, but in your close carriage,
and with all these wraps, I couldn't get wet."

"Oh, isn't it fun!" cried Kitty, as she threw her arms around her dear
friend, Dorothy. "Are you to stay all day?"

"Yes, until six o'clock. Mr. Maynard says picnics always last until
sundown."

Back they all trooped to the big living-room, which presented a cheerful
aspect indeed. The rainy morning being chilly, an open fire in the ample
fireplace threw out a cheerful blaze and warmth. Mrs. Maynard's pleasant
face smiled brightly, as she welcomed each little guest, and afterward
she excused herself, saying she had some household matters to attend to
and that Mr. Maynard would take charge of the "picnic."

"First of all," said the host, as the children turned expectant faces
toward him, "nobody is to say, 'What a pity it rained!' or anything like
that. Indeed, you are not to look out at the storm at all, unless you
say, 'How fortunate we are under cover!' or words to that effect."