e?" said Lulu. "Oh, no."

"Why not?"

"Oh, I haven't been to a picnic since I can remember."

"But why not?"

"Oh, I never think of such a thing."

Ninian waited for the family to speak. They did speak. Dwight said:

"Lulu's a regular home body."

And Ina advanced kindly with: "Come with us, Lulu, if you like."

"No," said Lulu, and flushed. "Thank you," she added, formally.

Mrs. Bett's voice shrilled from within the house, startlingly
close--just beyond the blind, in fact:

"Go on, Lulie. It'll do you good. You mind me and go on."

"Well," said Ninian, "that's what I say. You hustle for your hat and you
come along."

For the first time this course presented itself to Lulu as a
possibility. She stared up at Ninian.

"You can slip on my linen duster, over," Ina said graciously.

"Your new one?" Dwight incredulously wished to know.

"Oh, no!" Ina laughed at the idea. "The old one."

They were having to wait for Di in any case--they always had to wait for
Di--and at last, hardly believing in her own motions, Lulu was running
to make ready. Mrs. Bett hurried to help her, but she took down the
wrong things and they were both irritated. Lulu reappeared in the linen
duster and a wide hat. There had been no time to "tighten up" her hair;
she was flushed at the adventure; she had never looked so well.

They started. Lulu, falling in with Monona, heard for the first time in
her life, the step of the pursuing male, choosing to walk beside her and
the little girl. Oh, would Ina like that? And what did Lulu care what
Ina liked? Monona, making a silly, semi-articulate observation, was
enchanted to have Lulu burst into laughter and squeeze her hand.

Di contributed her bright presence, and Bobby Larkin appeared from
nowhere, running, with a gigantic bag of fruit.

"Bullylujah!" he shouted, and Lulu could have shouted with him.

She sought for some utterance. She wanted to talk with Ninian.

"I do hope we've brought sandwiches enough," was all that she could get
to say.

They chose a spot, that is to say Dwight Herbert chose a spot, across
the river and up the shore where there was at that season a strip of
warm beach. Dwight Herbert declared himself the builder of incomparable
fires, and made a bad smudge. Ninian, who was a camper neither by birth
nor by adoption, kept offering brightly to help, could think of nothing
to do, and presently, bethinking himself of skipping stones, went and
tried to skip them o