urning to Lib, "and you can sketch it, Miss Gaylord."

Lib looked upon Fred with a little more toleration, after he had said
"Miss Gaylord," and went and ordered an additional ration to be put
into the lunch basket. We were glad to have Fred along with us, for he
was very funny, and made jokes on every thing.

Lib would allow no one to carry the lunch basket but herself, as she
remarked, "It is safer with me."

We started, and were tempted to loiter at all the little nooks on the
leaf-shadowed road, and investigate the haunts of the curious dwellers
in the rocks and bushes, and especially were we interested in the
ducks on Fern Hollow creek. Dora insisted upon feeding them a piece of
bread. "Calamity," the dog, was along, of course, and as he belonged
to William Pitt, who called him "Clam," he was always in that boy's
company. It was, "Love me, love my dog," with William; and as he was a
professional of some kind, he was greatly prized by the boys.

We reached the woods and the old mill early; I think I never was in a
more delightful place. Every thing seemed to grow here.
Winter-greens, with their crimson berries, shining in the moss, and
blueberries, where the sun came; tall, white flowers that grew in
clusters in the shade, sent their perfume all about. Back of the mill,
on some sandy ledges, grew pennyroyal and spearmint; raspberries and
blackberries grew everywhere.

[Illustration: {A STREAM RUNNING THROUGH FIELDS.}]

The boys went off to gather a quantity for lunch, and Lib and Dora and
I hunted for a pleasant place to set out our dainties. We found it. A
natural bower, between four trees; one being a giant of a pine, right
at the doorway. The wild grape-vine and the woodbine had inclosed the
space so completely, that Lib, who had thoughtfully brought along a
scissors to cut off stubborn plants, could make two windows in the
green wall; one looking into the woods, the other off at the distant
pond. The grass was fine in here, and the sunbeams dropped down in
little round spots, on the pine needles that covered the floor.

"This is certainly the fairies' dining hall," said Lib.

"I'll tell you what," said I, "this is not far from home, and we can
bring things, and have a little parlor here. I can make a couple of
curtains out of that figured scrim, for windows, and that old square
rug in the carriage-house will do for the floor. You can bring your
rocking-chair, Lib, and Dora can bring her tea-set."

"I'l