d
dug into the ground with the end of his cane thoughtfully. "Young
ladies," he said presently, "would you do an old Exmoor boy the honor of
lunching with him to-day?"

"Oh, how kind!"

"So many of us?"

"It's too much," a dozen voices answered.

"Not at all. There could not be too many of you. I am Major Fern. I live
down the road a bit. You can find the house by the big iron gates
opening onto the avenue." Major Fern looked at his watch. "It's now a
little past twelve. May I expect you at a quarter past one? Mrs. Fern
will be delighted. There are--how many of you?"

Margaret told him promptly.

"That's as small as an Exmoor class," he observed. "An unusually small
class. But--I've heard of you from Miss Walker--an unusually bright
one, I understand. It will be a great pleasure to entertain so many
charming young ladies at once."

The girls were almost speechless with surprise and gratitude. Even
Margaret was for once reduced to a state of shyness.

"We are very grateful to you, Major Fern," she said, after some
hesitation, "and if you are sure it is not too much of an imposition, we
accept with pleasure."

So it was that Charlie's Oak was the indirect means of bringing the
Senior Ramble of that year to a successful termination.

CHAPTER V.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

"Will somebody please inform me how they can get up a lunch for this
crowd in an hour's time?" asked Nance, who, having spent her life in the
narrow quarters of a boarding house, was not accustomed to avalanches of
unexpected guests.

"Oh, I don't think it will be very difficult," Molly replied. "Major
Fern is a farmer. He probably has lots of hams in the smoke house and
plenty of eggs in the hen house and milk in the dairy and preserves and
pickles in the pantry, and if there isn't enough bread the cook can make
up some hot biscuits or corn bread."

"I know it couldn't embarrass you, Molly, dear. You'd be sure to find
plenty of food for company," laughed Nance.

But Molly was not far wrong in her suppositions of the lunch that Major
Fern unexpectedly called upon his wife and daughters and servants to
prepare. Alice was the only member of his family who was not entirely
cordial when the senior class of Wellington at last descended upon the
big old farmhouse at lunch time. She had buttered and sliced bread until
her back ached, and she cast many angry glances at her ruddy-faced
father tranquilly slicing ham in the pantry.

"