innovation to girls who were city-bred, and the entertainment promised
in the shape of various contests, winding up with a baseball game
between the "Fats" and the "Leans" appealed to them all, more or less
strongly. Peggy, with that faculty for picking up information which
would have made her an unqualified success as a newspaper reporter, was
continually announcing new items of interest, that Farmer Cole's Joe was
to pitch for the "Leans," or that Jerry Morton had won the potato race
the previous Fourth, and meant to enter again, or that Rosetta Muriel
disdained the promiscuous appeal of the picnic, but thought she might
bring herself to view the fireworks in the evening.

The morning of the third was for the most part given up to preparing the
picnic luncheon, and Jerry Morton, who sampled Peggy's doughnuts still
hot from the kettle, carried away a new-born respect for the
accomplishments of that versatile young person. Mrs. Snooks, too,
arriving when the house was fragrant with the mingled odors of blueberry
turnovers, spiced cake and gingersnaps, sniffed appreciatively, and lost
no time in expressing her surprise.

"Well, I want to know. I've heard tell that city folks most generally
bought their cake and stuff, instead of baking it. Dreadful shiftless
way, I call it. I just dropped in to see if you could let me have half a
pail of lard and a table-spoonful of soda."

Even the generous Peggy rejoiced that the opportunity to say no had
arrived at last.

"I've just used up the last of the lard, Mrs. Snooks, and we haven't
thought to get any soda yet."

"You don't mean to tell me that you've been getting along without
baking-soda," exclaimed Mrs. Snooks with unconcealed disappointment.
"Well, well! Young folks are certainly thoughtless. And here you've used
up all your lard, and to-morrow the Fourth, and the store shut." From
all appearances Mrs. Snooks was having something of a struggle to
control her irritation at such evidences of short-sightedness. It was
clear, however, that her efforts had been crowned with success, when she
announced with an explosive sigh, "Well, if you haven't lard or
baking-soda, I'll take a cup of granulated sugar, and a ball of darning
cotton. Yes, black, I guess, though if you're out of black, 'most any
color will do."

It was certainly disappointing when after such preparations and
anticipations, the girls were waked on the morning of the Fourth by the
beating of rain on the roof.