n longings and ambitions, without the
fulfilment of which it seems impossible to live, yet if the sudden
question be put, "_What would you have_?" instantly the brain becomes a
blank, and not a single suggestion is forthcoming. The Garnetts stared
at one another in labouring silence. It was too late for parties; too
early for pantomimes, a definite gift, failed to meet the case, since
each girl thought with a pang, "What's the use? I might not be here to
enjoy it!" Extra indulgences, such as sitting up at night, or being
"let off" early morning practising, did not appear sufficiently
important, since, with a little scheming, these might be gained in
addition. It was Lavender who at last succeeded in hitting the popular
taste.

"A picnic! A real whole-day one this time. Lunch in the woods at
Earley, tea in our old woman's cottage, walk over the fields to the
amphitheatre, and home by train from Oxholm. Whoever goes with Aunt
Maria will be cheated of her holiday, for the well-behaved country
doesn't count. If you have to wear gloves and walk properly, you might
as well be in town at once. For the victim's sake we ought to have one
more day in the woods!"

Clemence and Darsie sparkled, for the programme was an opulent one,
combining as it did the two ordinary picnics into one. The yearly
programme was that--"if you are good"--the Garnett family should be
taken for two half-day excursions into the country on two summer
Saturday afternoons, but though the woods and the amphitheatre were only
separated by three short miles, never yet had the two places been
visited together. An all-day picnic seemed a regal entertainment,
worthy of the unique occasion.

"Ourselves and the Vernons! Mrs Vernon to talk to mother, then they
won't have as much time to look after us. When they begin on carpets
and curtains they forget everything else, and we can do as we like. Do
you suppose Dan would come?"

"Sure he wouldn't."

"Why?"

"My dear!"

Clemence held out eloquent hands. "Does he ever come? He's a man, soon
going to college, and you are only `kids.' I'm older than he is really;
a woman is always older than a man, but he doesn't like me. We are not
_en rapport_." Clemence tried hard to suppress a smirk of self-
consciousness at the use of the French term, while the two younger
sisters jeered and booed with the callous brutality of their kind.

"Ha, ha! aren't we fine? Roll your r's a little more next time,