grandchildren, and never read it, we agreed that it could not do
much harm.

The very first time that I saw Grandma Cobb, at Caroline Liscom's,
she had that book. I knew it by the red cover and a baking-powder
advertisement on the back; and the next time also--that was at the
seventeenth-of-June picnic.

The whole Jameson family went to the picnic, rather to our surprise.
I think people had a fancy that Mrs. H. Boardman Jameson would be
above our little rural picnic. We had yet to understand Mrs. Jameson,
and learn that, however much she really held herself above and aloof,
she had not the slightest intention of letting us alone, perhaps
because she thoroughly believed in her own nonmixable quality. Of
course it would always be quite safe for oil to go to a picnic with
water, no matter how exclusive it might be.

The picnic was in Leonard's grove, and young and old were asked. The
seventeenth-of-June picnic is a regular institution in our village. I
went with Louisa, and little Alice in her new white muslin dress; the
child had been counting on it for weeks. We were nearly all assembled
when the Jamesons arrived. Half a dozen of us had begun to lay the
table for luncheon, though we were not to have it for an hour or two.
We always thought it a good plan to make all our preparations in
season. We were collecting the baskets and boxes, and it did look as
if we were to have an unusual feast that year. Those which we peeped
into appeared especially tempting. Mrs. Nathan Butters had brought a
great loaf of her rich fruit cake, a kind for which she is famous in
the village, and Mrs. Sim White had brought two of her whipped-cream
pies. Mrs. Ketchum had brought six mince pies, which were a real