THE PICNIC

“Let’s eat!” exclaimed Joy. “I’m almost starved!” She was twirling on tiptoe on the top of a flat stone. “Do let’s unpack the basket!”

“And I must go. I told Mrs. Stacey I’d be back soon. If you’ll just tell me which way to start out. I’m lost!” laughed Kit.

“Oh you can’t get lost in Lynnwood if you’d try. All roads lead to Main Street,” declared Bet.

“Or away from Main Street, as I’ve found out this morning!”

“Oh but you must stay for the picnic; we wouldn’t enjoy it now without you,” urged Joy.

“But Mrs. Stacey might worry. No, I won’t start in by causing her trouble. That wouldn’t be right.”

“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” exclaimed Bet. “You girls arrange the lunch under that tree and I’ll run home and telephone Mrs. Stacey. She’ll say yes, I know she will.”

Without waiting for Kit’s assent, Bet raced up the path, her hair flying in disorder, then she disappeared in the shrubbery. In a short time she returned with the good news that Kit was to spend the afternoon and evening with the girls. Mrs. Stacey was more than delighted that her young charge had found so congenial a group of friends. Not having children of her own, she hardly knew what to do with Kit. And when Bet promised to look after her, she was greatly relieved, for everyone in Lynnwood knew the bright little daughter of Colonel Baxter and trusted her.

When Bet returned with the good news, the lunch was already spread.

“Why this isn’t a lunch at all!” exclaimed Joy with enthusiasm. “It’s a banquet. And one of Auntie Gibbs’ special ones. Isn’t she a dear! She remembered that I liked devilled eggs.”

“How you flatter yourself! Don’t imagine for a minute that she made those for you. They were for her own little angel, Bet,” said Shirley with a quiet laugh.

“An angel is the last thing she’d call me, Shirley. I know I’ve been frightfully contrary lately and I’m not in Auntie Gibbs’ good graces. She said the other day she wished I had come a boy; that boys were lots nicer.”

“The very idea!” cried the girls together. “Boys better than girls! That’s silly!”

“Well if it’s boys she likes, you certainly do your best to make her happy, for you look like a boy and act like one most of the time,” teased Joy.

“Thanks for the flattery!” Bet tossed her head with a pretended air of superiority. “I’d love to be a boy!”

“What would you do?” asked Joy.

“I’d run away to sea!”

“Old stuff! Take a big jump and get up to date!” Joy came back at her with a snap.

“Why be so old fashioned?” laughed Shirley. “Do something modern!”

“Maybe I’d stow away on an airplane then, going to China.”

“That’s more like you, Bet Baxter. That sea stuff never appealed to me. They always were made to work. And there isn’t much work on an airplane,” said Joy helping herself to another devilled egg.

“Do unwrap that package there,” cried Shirley. “Let’s see what Auntie Gibbs made for me. Chicken sandwiches, oh boy! And Auntie Gibbs’ chicken sandwiches are the best ever, aren’t they?”

“We ought to know,” laughed Bet. “We’ve eaten about a ton of them. Here Kit, do help yourself. Have another egg.”

Kit had never tasted such a lunch. And it was all put up in such an appetizing way, it seemed a pity to disturb it. Everything was wrapped in wax paper or put up in small jars. There was actually a dish of crisp salad. There were stuffed olives and Bet grasped the jar with a little cry:

“Let’s see if it is Auntie Gibbs’ special. Oh girls, it is, it is! Auntie Gibbs’ stuffed olives!”

“Well she has outdone herself!” Joy was munching an olive as she showered praise on the old housekeeper at the Manor.

“You know, Kit,” explained Bet, “these stuffed olives are Auntie Gibbs’ own invention and what goes into the filling of them, no one knows but herself. It’s her secret!”

“And it’s a secret to the death!” laughed Shirley. “She says she’ll never tell and when she dies she will bequeath the recipe to her best friend. Won’t that sound funny in a will?”

Kit laughed heartily at these new friends and Bet continued: “Oh yes, Auntie Gibbs makes a sort of religion out of her cooking. And when she hits upon something especially good, she guards the recipe as if it were a treasure and freezes up hard if anyone asks her how she made it.”

“I wonder why?” ventured Kit.

“She says if everybody makes the same thing, it’s no treat.”

“This is very different from an Arizona picnic, girls,” exclaimed Kit suddenly.

“Do tell us about it, Kit. What did you eat?”

“We mostly had Arizona strawberries and mountain trout,” chuckled Kit and was pleased to see Bet’s face express disbelief.

“Why, I didn’t know you had strawberries in Arizona.”

“And where do you get trout in that hot desert country, when the streams all go dry half the time?” asked Shirley.

Kit laughed with all her might. “There I knew I’d get caught at that old joke. Well you see it’s this way. Arizona strawberries are the little red Mexican beans, which we pretty nearly live on out there. And the mountain trout are the strips of bacon that are fried to go with them.”

“Oh you mean thing, trying to fool us like that!” shouted Joy, who had been sitting still so long that she had grown tired. Now she danced away down the path with a sandwich held above her head.

“What else would you have for a lunch?” asked Shirley.

“Oh like as not we’d take a Dutch oven along and bake biscuit and make coffee. They are great on coffee in the desert. Sometimes we have great big picnics when people for miles around come.”

“And are there lots of cowboys there?” asked Joy. “Now I’m getting interested. Imagine a picnic with lots of handsome cowboys. Oh, Kit you should have seen the show the other night. It was simply grand!”

“Oh, Joy, do keep quiet! Kit was telling us about the big picnic. What do they have at that?” Bet was interested in the description of the country that was unknown to her.

“That’s when they have a barbecue.”

“What in the world is that?” demanded Joy.

“The men dig great holes in the ground, and make a fire in it, and when there is a good bed of coals they hang a whole steer in it until it is roasted.”

“I don’t see how they can do it,” said Bet.

“Of course the men have to dig the big trench and get the fire going the night before in order to get the bed of coals. Then they put in the sides of beef on iron rods, and cover it all over with green boughs. And when that meat is roasted, you never tasted anything so good.”

“It must be nice to live out there,” mused Joy.

“I’d like to go and take pictures sometime,” said Shirley.

“Maybe you can someday. Wouldn’t I love to show you my mountains and desert!”

“And would you let me ride Powder?” asked Bet.

“Yes, that is if you wanted to after you’d see him buck. That horse is a rascal. And how he bucks! Even I have to hold on for dear life.”

The picnic lunch ended with iced orangeade and little tarts filled with raspberries.

“Those must have been cooked for you, Kit, for we’ve never had any of them before,” laughed Bet. “And one thing sure, if Auntie Gibbs had known that there was to be a new girl with us, she would have made her something special. She’s a dear!”

“This lunch was simply perfect, Bet. I’ve eaten too much, as usual. I’m a little piggy. But oh how happy I am!” sang Joy.

Shirley had finished some time before and was setting the camera in place for a picture, arranging the attachment that enabled her to be in the group.

“What’s she doing?” asked Kit as Shirley announced that everything was ready.

“It’s this way,” replied the girl. “I’m the only one who knows how to take a decent picture, so I have always had to be left out. I got tired of it and bought an attachment so I can snap the thing and be in it at the same time.”

“That’s clever! I’ve read about it, but I’ve never seen it worked.”

Joy, who had been dancing around on one foot, suddenly came to a stop, munched the last of a raspberry tart and exclaimed: “Girls, I’ve got an idea!”

“Hooray!” cried Bet. “Joy has an idea, the first one today! Speak, child!”

“Wait a minute, girls, now keep still just a second! There, okay! The picture is taken!” announced Shirley.

“Now for that idea, Joy. Let’s hear it.” The girls selected a shady spot and seated themselves while Joy continued:

“Wouldn’t it be nice to form a club of some sort and meet every Saturday?”

“And as many times during the week as possible,” readily agreed Bet. “What fun we can have!”

“But if we are a club, we should have a serious purpose. All clubs do,” said Shirley.

“We might even do things for other people, like the Camp Fire Girls or the Girl Scouts,” suggested Kit.

“Of course we wouldn’t want to be selfish and think only of ourselves. We must stand for something. Honor, Loyalty and Friendship!” prompted Shirley again.

“Oh isn’t that a good idea!” exclaimed Bet. “Let’s do it.”

“And we must have a name for our club,” said Joy. “Bet, you think of something nice.”

Bet buried her face in her two hands to shut out all the disturbing things about her, the trees, the blue sky and the big dark cloud in the distance. Usually she had ideas at the tip of her tongue, but it was the quiet Shirley who had an inspiration.

“Let’s call ourselves the Merriweather Girls! I do love the name of Colonel Baxter’s estate. Merriweather Manor!”

“How lovely!” exclaimed Kit. “Merriweather, what a pretty name! I’d love to be called a Merriweather Girl. And wouldn’t Mother be proud!”

“And we can take as our ideal the lovely Lady Betty Merriweather, the Lady of the Manor,” said Bet thoughtfully.

“Oh tell me about her!” begged Kit.

“It’s too long a story, Kit. When Bet gets talking about Lady Betty of the Manor, she keeps it up for the whole afternoon. Some rainy day when we have to stay in, she’ll tell you the story,” replied Shirley.

“Anyway now, we want to get this club started properly,” cried Joy. “Come on and join hands!” The girls formed a circle, pressed their hands in a warm clasp and thus their club was formed and plans begun for helpfulness, friendship and fun.

They had hardly more than finished their lunch when the first cloud came over their friendship, but as it was a cloud laden with rain, appearing just over the top of the Palisades, it did not hurt the girls. With merry laughter they packed the basket, scattering crumbs and crusts over the grassy bank for the birds and squirrels.

“We’ll have to hurry and get home, it’s going to rain!” urged Bet. “We’ll continue the first meeting of our club in my room.”

“Oh I don’t want to go to the Manor today, girls. My dress isn’t presentable! I’ll come some other time.”

“Indeed you won’t; you’ll come now. We’ll fix you up with another dress, so don’t worry!” promised Bet.

Bet gave a loud, shrill whistle and stood waiting. Kit wondered what was coming now. Bet seemed to be waiting like a magician. Having whistled, it was time for the trick to appear.

Something did come with a rush. A big brown animal, as big as a mountain lion, leaped through the woods and rushed toward them. Although Kit was used to life in the open, she gasped for a moment, expecting to see the big creature spring upon them.

It was Bet’s big collie dog. She threw both arms around his neck as he ran to her. “Come on Smiley Jim! You’re a good boy! You did it just right that time, Smiley!” Then she turned to Kit and continued: “You can’t imagine what a time I’ve had trying to teach that pup to obey.”

“He seems to be well trained now. I never saw an order obeyed any quicker than that,” laughed Kit.

“Smiley Jim, listen to me. This is our new chum, Kit Patten. I want you to be nice to her and welcome her in your best style!”

As if the dog understood what his mistress was saying, he gave a bound toward Kit, almost upsetting her, as he jumped with extended tongue. His lips were drawn back over his teeth in a broad grin.

“Shake hands, Smiley Jim,” called Bet.

The dog put up his paw and Kit took it in her hand.

“Well, that’s the first time I ever saw a dog smile,” she exclaimed in astonishment. “Our mountain dogs are nothing much to look at. Dad calls them curs, but I like any kind of a dog. And this one is a beauty, I love him already!”

Smiley Jim felt that he had been given charge of Kit, for he stayed near her and pawed at her dress, demanding attention.

Shirley and Joy now finished the packing of the basket and were covering it as if it were to be sent on a long journey, but the reason was soon apparent when Smiley Jim started toward it, and took the handle in his mouth. He dropped it suddenly and gave several loud barks, making sure that everyone had seen his deed of helpfulness, then started toward the Manor.

“You see,” laughed Shirley. “Even Smiley Jim wants to join our club and help others.”

“And he wants the whole world to know that he’s doing something noble. But I don’t blame him for that,” bubbled Joy.

“That dog is strong for flattery,” laughed Bet. “He just eats it up. Scold him and he’ll pout like a wee child; praise him and he thrills.”

“He’s exactly like a human being, isn’t he Bet?” remarked Shirley with a smile.

“Half the time I pretend he is human. I tell him all my secrets and all my happy surprises and even my troubles. And when I’m blue, he does my howling for me. Truly he does. He can’t bear to see me sad.”

“He’s a wise dog. No one should be sad. I’m glad I’m alive! Right now I want to dance and shout, I’m so happy!”

“Go to it, Joy!” laughed Bet. “No one will stop you!”

The girl worked off her enthusiasm with a few well executed handsprings and cartwheels. “I’d better get rid of some of this energy or I may wreck the Manor!”

As they came in sight of the Manor, Auntie Gibbs, the housekeeper, was looking anxiously from the kitchen door, for the cloud that had been threatening, now opened with a deluge of rain and peal after peal of thunder sent the girls scurrying toward the side entrance.

Smiley Jim was already on the veranda, having deposited his burden, he was now barking excitedly, demanding the attention that he felt he merited.