and Jack agreed was "simply
mirac'l'us!"

Such a wonderful day as that is hard to describe. Imagine the scene.
Great square halls on the first and second floors; broad stair-ways;
fine open rooms; pleasant fires; beautiful flowers; boys and girls
flitting, gathering everywhere, from garret to kitchen,--now scattered,
now crowded, now listening to stories, now running, now hiding, now
gazing at an impromptu "performance," now sitting in a demure circle,
with a napkin on every lap,--you know why,--now playing games, now
having a race on the broad freshly-swept piazza, that extended along
every side of the mansion, now giving three cheers for Uncle George, and
then beginning all over again. It lasted more than ten hours, yet nobody
was tired, (until the next day!) and all the guests declared, in one way
or another, that it was the very nicest time they ever had known in
their lives. Donald and Dorothy were delightful as host and hostess.
They enjoyed everything, were on the alert for every one's pleasure,
and by their good-humor, courtesy, and graceful manners, unconsciously
set an example to all the picnickers. Uncle George,--ah, now I know
what to say! You have known him heretofore as a man of grave
responsibility,--troubled with an anxiety which to you, perhaps, has
been uncomfortably mysterious. But Uncle George, at the house-picnic,
was quite a different man. He threw care to the winds, proposed games,
invented capital "forfeits," sprang surprises upon the guests, laughed
and played like a splendid boy, and, better yet, wore his "glow-look"
nearly all the time.

"How handsome Mr. Reed is!" thought more than one young guest. "They say
his brother Wolcott was handsomer still. No wonder Don and Dorry are so
good-looking. Ho! what are we going to do now?"

Then would follow a merry, well-ordered rush to this or that part of
the house, according to the special attraction of the moment. But,
really, it is quite impossible for any one to describe the day properly.
The only way is to give you a few notes from observations taken on the
spot.

We'll begin with the kitchen--Norah's kingdom. There she stands, a queen
in a calico gown. But Dorothy has the sceptre. It is a big wooden spoon.
She and a dozen other girls are crowding about the big cooking-stove.
All have large towels pinned over their dresses, after the fashion of
Topsy's apron--close to the throat, tight around the skirt, and the arms
left free. What in the wor