"Race you to that big rock," cried David and began to run. Phœbe followed through the brush and dry leaves, but the farmer covered the distance too quickly for her.
"Now I'm hungry," she said, panting; "I'll eat more than my share of the lunch."
She climbed to the top of the boulder and they sat side by side, the lunch box resting on David's knees.
"Now anything you want ask for," said he.
"I will not!" She delved into the box and brought out a sandwich. "It's mine as much as yours."
"Going in for Woman's Suffrage and Rights and the like?" he asked, laughing.
"Ugh," she wrinkled her nose, "don't mention things like that to-day. I don't want to hear about war or work or problems or anything but just pure joy this day! I earned this perfect day this year. This is to be a day of all-joy for us. Have another sandwich? I'm going to—this makes only four more left for each. Aunt Maria knew what she was doing when she made me take this big box of lunch for just us two. Now, aren't you glad that I brought lunch in a box instead of eating our dinner at Hull's as you suggested?" she said as she kicked her feet, little girl fashion, against the side of the boulder.
"Of course I am glad. I was afraid you might like dinner at the tavern better, that is why I suggested it."
"Don't you know me better than that? Why, we can eat in dining-rooms three hundred and sixty-four days in every year. This is one day when we eat in the birds' dining-room."
"I am enjoying it, Phœbe. It is the first picnic I have had for a long time. I can't tell how I'm drinking in the joy of it."