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