am was
begun. Of course there were some mishaps. Was there ever a picnic
without them? But no one was badly hurt. It was Giuseppe's first
celebration of Independence Day with gunpowder and torpedoes, and in his
excitement and delight at the noise he was making, he thoughtlessly
thrust a stump of burning punk into his trousers' pocket along with a
bunch of fire-crackers, and would have been seriously burned, no doubt,
had not Cherry promptly turned the hose on him. As it was, he was nearly
drowned, and very much frightened, but soon recovered from the shock,
and returned with energy to his crackers again.

Lottie fell through the hay-mow in the barn, trying to escape her
pursuer in a lively game of tag. George tumbled into the river and was
rescued just in time. Tony got hit by the swing-board and lost one tooth
as a result. Allee sat down in a tub of lemonade, and Peace toppled out
of a tree into a trayful of ice-cream which Jud had just dished up. But
these were mere trifles, swallowed up in the greater events of the
day--the boisterous games on the smooth lawn, the picnic dinner under
the trees, the beautiful music made by the lame girl and the little
songbird of Italy; the destruction of the sham fort built by the
dignified doctor and sedate young minister; the row on the river in the
late afternoon; the gorgeous beauty of the place when the lanterns were
lighted at dusk; and, fitting climax of that wonderful day, the
brilliant display of fireworks which Jud set off when finally darkness
had fallen over the land.

But like all happy days, this Fourth of July came to an end at last, the
guests departed, and Peace, walking slowly up the path from the gate,
felt suddenly tired. Slipping her hand into the doctor's big one, she
sighed, "Well, it's all over with! Our flag room money has gone up in
smoke and down in ice-cream."

"Are you sorry?" asked the President, a little surprised at her
long-drawn sigh and tone of regret.

"Oh, no, I ain't sorry for that part of it. I'm sorry the day is gone.
That's the trouble with having a good time. It always comes to an end."

"But the memory of it still lives. Think how many hearts you have made
happy today."

"Yes, that's so," she answered, brightening visibly; "and the best of it
is, there's at least one more _patriarch_. Juiceharpie has always been
an Italian till today, but after this he's going to be an American. The
fire-crackers did it."

CHAPTER XV

PEACE