"Now, Rock," she said, as they went along the paths, "you are not choosing the prettiest ones at all. I believe you are picking out the mean ones on purpose; I am going to choose myself. You tell me, Florence, whenever you see a real pretty one."
Florence promised, and Rock looked on, secretly pleased that they had taken the matter into their own hands.
"What lovely ones you have chosen," he said, as Dimple gave the bunch into his hands. "Thank you so much."
"And thank you, so much," said the girls, "for the hats, and the baskets, and the invitation."
"You will be sure to be ready," he said, at the gate.
"Yes," they cried.
"At half-past four?"
"Yes."
"Good-bye sister; good-bye Florence; go in out of the sun."
"Good-bye, brother, keep in the shade."