“Oh, I’m going to the picnic!” he gleefully told the two little girls the next time he went for the mail.
“Oh! oh!” cried the two children, “Ben is going! How fine! I thought you said you couldn’t go, Benny.”
“Well, I didn’t think I could. Mr. Bentley didn’t say anything about my stopping work; but now Mrs. Bentley says she wants me to go with her; and Oh, Kit! she’s making cakes and pies, and frying chicken, and making biscuit till you can’t rest! I tell you she’s got a lot cooked!”
“So have we,” put in Jennie. “I must tell mother right away that you are going; she’ll be so glad.”
A long drive in the big Dayton, in which were stowed sundry baskets, brought the picnicers to a pleasant grove which overlooked a beautiful creek. And it would be useless to try to tell what a good time the children had; of how they swung on the grapevine swings; of how they gathered lovely, sweet-smelling magnolias; of how they fished from a little rowboat, and of how they ate unlimited supplies of good things; then the games that they played and the songs that they sang, till, just as a glorious sunset touched the water with long streaks of rose and gold, they made ready to drive home. If was all entirely too delightful not to give enjoyment during every minute of the day to the little city children who had scarcely ever been beyond brick walls, and they joined heartily in the homeward singing, going to bed at last with very tired bodies, but very happy hearts.
“Do you think you can help me churn?” Mrs. Bentley asked Benny the next morning.
“I don’t know,” replied he. “I never saw how butter is made, but I’ll try.”
“Oh, well, that is all I want you to do. There is not much skill required, and if you keep the handle of the churn going that is all you need do.”
So, under a widespreading chestnut tree, Benny set to work at this new employment. It was rather monotonous work, but he could do it mechanically and let his eyes rove over field and sky till, after a while, he felt the cream growing more and more lumpy.
There was a long lane leading from the road up to the house, the gate opening into it from the side yard being nearly always open. Just before the gate little Alice was playing contentedly in the sand with sticks and pebbles.