ay be some divine reason that prompts
women to find excuses in such matters--which, in a way, forces them
willy-nilly to the making of such excuses.

And yet, she had to admit that it was stretching the excuse pretty far
when, a week later, she meekly allowed him to come with her on her
usual Sunday outing into the country. By steady cross-examination he
had made her divulge the fact that it was her interesting habit to
prepare a luncheon of bread and butter and cake, and, taking a train,
to spend the day by the side of a brook she had discovered.

"Fine," he nodded. "Next Sunday I'll go with you."

That afternoon he started making his preparations.

Obviously, the first thing necessary was a luncheon basket, and on his
way uptown he saw one of English wicker that took his fancy. It had
compartments with bottles and a whole outfit of knives and forks and
plates and little drinking-cups and what not. What it cost is nobody's
business. Then he stopped at a very nice grocery store on Fifth Avenue
and asked the advice of the clerk about the more substantial contents,
and the clerk gave his advice very willingly. He bought some French
sardines and English marmalade, and some fruit and confectionery and
some strictly fresh eggs and dainty crackers and some jelly and olives
and cheese and several other little things.

"Now," suggested the clerk, "a small chicken roasted and served cold
would be very nice."

"Right," nodded Don.

"I could order it for you from here."

"Right again," agreed Don.

It was to be sent to the house, so that Nora could have it roasted
that afternoon.

He accomplished these things on his way uptown, and felt quite
satisfied with himself. This preparing of a picnic basket was, after
all, a very simple matter.

When Miss Winthrop came into the station for the nine-thirty, he was
waiting for her with the big wicker basket in his hand.

They rode to a little village hardly large enough to have a name, and
getting out there took to the open road.

Don enjoyed the tramp of three miles that followed, but, on the whole,
he was glad when they reached the border of the brook. The walking and
the flowers and the scenery occupied too much of the girl's attention.
Not only that, but this English wicker basket became heavy in the
course of time. At the end of a mile or so it seemed as if the clerk
must have lined the bottom of his basket with stones. Don meant to
investigate at the first opportunity