is face touched mine for a minute. I don't know
that he did it on purpose, but I shouldn't wonder! I was glad to stoop
down to the spring, and wet my cheeks, for they felt hot enough by this
time. However they had time to get cool while Ned was unharnessing his
horses, and presently Abby Matilda and her beau came along.

'Dear me, Dimpey,' said she, 'have you really got here without breaking
your bones, and with Mr. Hassel's wonderful team, too?'

I was so provoked at the mean thing--I know she was jealous because Ned
didn't ask _her_--that I never said a word; but Ned answered:

'My horses are not in the habit of breaking anybody's bones, Miss Abby,
and if they were, they wouldn't pick out the belle of Preston to
practise on--not while I'm master.'

Abby colored up, and flirted her head, as she always does when she's
angry; but the rest of the company began to come up, and nothing more
was said.

I'm not going to tell you much about the picnic, though it was a real
nice one, and in such a beautiful place. Every one says there's one of
the handsomest views in the world from Spring Mountain; you can see five
villages, and the river winds so pretty among the hills; then you can
count a great many church steeples, and there are such noble trees up
there, and nice, shady places, and rocks to sit on, that it's the very
spot for a picnic. We played plays, and told stories, and sang
considerable; our Biel is a funny little fellow, and can imitate almost
any animal: he kept us all laughing, till even Abby Matilda forgot her
airs, and was quite pleasant. Then we had a right good dinner--cold
chicken, and ham, and tongue, and lots of nice pies and cakes, and
plenty of currant wine and milk punch, and the clear, good water from
the spring. Calanthy's biscuits were so good everybody wanted them, and
my Washington cake was praised to the skies, and I was as happy as I
could be.

In the midst of the dinner our Joe spoke out--Joe _is_ good, but he
don't always know when to speak.

'Where is Race Miller, boys? I thought he was coming with us? He didn't
say nothing to the contrary, the other day.'

Ned Hassel was sitting next to me on the grass; he gave me a nudge, and
answered, 'I shouldn't wonder if Race has got the mitten from one of the
girls; I met him early this morning, and he looked as black as thunder.'

'Well,' said Abby Matilda--she _must_ have her say--'if I was a man, and
anyone gave me the mitten, I'd have too mu