"Hark! there's a band o' music! It's a circus!" cried Kent, excitedly.
Jot had disappeared somewhere in the crowd.
"No-o, not a circus," Old Tilly said doubtfully. "It's some kind of a big picnic. See, there's a kind of a track laid out over there where that flag is. They're going to have some kind of athletics."
"Foot-races and hurdles and things! Oh, I say, can't we stay and see 'em?" Kent cried eagerly.
At that instant appeared Jot, waving his cap in great excitement.
"Come on—we're invited!" he shouted. "There's going to be lots of fun, I tell you! We can buy ice-cream, too, over in that striped tent, and there are boats we can hire to row out in, and—everything."
"Hold on a minute!" demanded Old Tilly with the sternness of authority. "How did you get your invitation? and what is it that's going on, anyway?"
"Tell quick, Jot—hurry! They're getting ready for a foot-race," fidgeted Kent.
"It's a Grangers' picnic, that's what. And a big jolly Granger invited us to stop to it. He asked if we weren't farmer boys, and said he thought so by our cut when I said, yes sir-ee. He wants us to stop. He said so. He says his folks have got bushels of truck for dinner, and we can join in with them and welcome."
"And thanking him kindly, I'll stop!" laughed Kent, in high feather. "Come on over there, Jot, and see 'em race." And the three young knights were presently in the midst of the gay crowd, as gay as anybody.
The afternoon was full of fun for them. They made plenty of acquaintances among the other brown-faced farmer boys, and entered into the spirit of the occasion with the hearty zest of boys out holidaying. They were a little careful about not being too free with their spending-money. "'Cause we're out on a long run, you know," Old Tilly said. But what they did spend went for their share of the entertainment given so freely to them by the big Granger who had taken them in tow. It was a day filled with a round of pleasure, as Jot had predicted.