es to the public. The worst feature of the affair was
that every one in the two villages suddenly and contemporaneously wanted
molasses, so that Cephas spent the afternoon reviewing his misery by
continually turning the tap and drawing off the fatal liquid. Then, too,
every inquisitive boy in the neighborhood came to the back of the store
to view the operation, exclaiming: "What makes the floor so wet? Hain't
been spillin' molasses, have yer? Bet yer have! Good joke on Old Foxy!"

X. ON TORY HILL

It had been a heavenly picnic the little trio all agreed as to that; and
when Ivory saw the Baxter girls coming up the shady path that led along
the river from the Indian Cellar to the bridge, it was a merry group and
a transfigured Rodman that caught his eye. The boy, trailing on behind
with the baskets and laden with tin dippers and wildflowers, seemed
another creature from the big-eyed, quiet little lad he saw every day.
He had chattered like a magpie, eaten like a bear, is torn his jacket
getting wild columbines for Patty, been nicely darned by Waitstill, and
was in a state of hilarity that rendered him quite unrecognizable.

"We've had a lovely picnic!" called Patty; "I wish you had been with
us!"

"You didn't ask me!" smiled Ivory, picking up Waitstill's mending-basket
from the nook in the trees where she had hidden it for safe-keeping.

"We've played games, Ivory," cried the boy. "Patty made them up herself.
First we had the 'Landing of the Pilgrims,' and Waitstill made believe
be the figurehead of the Mayflower. She stood on a great boulder and
sang:--

'The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast'--

and, oh! she was splendid! Then Patty was Pocahontas and I was Cap'n
John Smith, and look, we are all dressed up for the Indian wedding!"

Waitstill had on a crown of white birch bark and her braid of hair,
twined with running ever-green, fell to her waist. Patty was wreathed
with columbines and decked with some turkey feathers that she had put
in her basket as too pretty to throw away. Waitstill looked rather
conscious in her unusual finery, but Patty sported it with the reckless
ease and innocent vanity that characterized her.

"I shall have to run into father's store to put myself tidy," Waitstill
said, "so good-bye, Rodman, we'll have another picnic some day. Patty,
you must do the chores this afternoon, you know, so that I can go to
choir rehearsal."

Rodman and Patt