she would, her
smile never could be sweet like Miss Salisbury's. And then off the girls
would go to "exploring," as they called rambling in the Glen, the
under-teachers taking them in charge.

And now Polly Pepper ran to her hamper, which she saw in a pile where
the baskets had been heaped by the maids. "There it is," pointing to the
tag sticking up; "oh, help me,--not you, Alexia," as Alexia ran up as
usual, to help forward any undertaking Polly Pepper might have in mind.
"Dear me! you might almost kill your arm."

"This old arm," cried Alexia,--"I'm sick and tired of it."

"Well, you better take care of it," cried Polly gaily, "and then it
won't be an old arm, but it will be as good as brand new, Alexia. Oh,
one of the other girls, do come and help me."

"What do you want, Polly?" cried some of the girls, racing up to her.

"I want to get out my hamper," said Polly, pointing to the tag sticking
up "high and dry" amid a stack of baskets. "My tin botany case is in
it; I must get the ferns I promised to bring home to Phronsie."

"You stand away, all of ye." The old man Kimball, his horses out of the
shafts, and well taken care of, now drew near, and swept off with his
ample hand the bunch of girls. "Which one is't? Oh, that ere one with
the tag," answering his own question. "Well, now, I'll git that for you
jest as easy as rolling off a log. One--two--three--there she comes!"

And, one, two, three, and here she did come! And in a trice Polly had
the cover up, and out flew the little green tin botany case; and within
it being an iron spoon and little trowel, off flew Polly on happy feet
to unearth the treasures that were to beautify Phronsie's little garden;
a bunch of girls following to see the operation.

The magazine fell idly to the lap of Miss Salisbury. She sat dreamily
back, resting her head against the boulder. "Sister," she said softly,
"this is a happy custom we have started. I trust nothing will ever
prevent our holding our annual picnic."

"Yes," said Miss Anstice absently. She was very much interested in a
story she had begun, and she hated to have Miss Salisbury say a word.
Although she had on a stiff, immaculate white gown (for on such a
festival as the annual picnic, she always dressed in white), still she
was not in the same sweet temper that the principal was enjoying, and
she held her thumb and finger in the place.

"Yes, the picnic is very good," she said, feeling that something was
expecte