"For my picnic," he explained, as Midget looked at him wonderingly.
"It's to be a sand-pail picnic, you know."

As they neared the ice-cream garden, Marjorie noticed a forlorn-looking
little boy, near the entrance. So wistful did he look, that she turned
around to look at him again.

"Who's your friend, Mehitabel?" said Mr. Bryant, seeing her glance.

"Oh, I don't know, Cousin Jack!" she cried, impulsively; "but he seems
so poor and lonesome, and we're all so happy. Couldn't I go without my
ice cream, and let him have it? Oh, please let me!"

"H'm! he isn't a very attractive specimen of humanity."

"Well, he isn't very clean, but, see, he has a nice face, and big brown
eyes! Oh, do give him some ice cream, Cousin Jack; I'll willingly go
without."

"I'll go without," said King, quickly; "you can have mine, Mops."

Cousin Jack looked quizzically at the children.

"I might say I'd give you each ice cream, and the poor kiddie also. But
that would be my charity. Now, if you two really want to do the poor
little chap a kindness, you may each have a half portion, and give him a
whole plate. How's that?"

"Fine!" exclaimed Marjorie; "just the thing! But, truly, Cousin Jack, it
isn't _much_ sacrifice for us, for we'll have ice cream at the picnic,