A FALLING IN
"How's the Sleeping Beauty this morning?" was Alec's salutation to Blue Bonnet, when he appeared early next day in advance of the other picnickers. Blue Bonnet asleep at her own party had been a spectacle he would not soon forget; it was almost as funny as being absent from her first tea, on that memorable day in Woodford.
"The Sleeping Beauty could find it in her heart to envy Rip Van Winkle; a nap like his is just what I crave. But no,—Sarah must needs have breakfast at cock-crow," Blue Bonnet complained.
"Why, Blue Bonnet, it was after eight o'clock when I called you," returned Sarah in a grieved tone.
"Sarah didn't want breakfast mistaken for lunch again," said Amanda.
"My prophetic soul tells me that we are going to conduct ourselves like a model Sunday-school class to-day," Blue Bonnet remarked.
"What makes you think so?" asked Amanda, in whom the memory of yesterday's trials was still undimmed.
"'Well begun is half done,' you know. And this beginning is obnoxiously perfect." Blue Bonnet was wiping off the oil-cloth as she spoke; dishes were already washed, beds done, and all without a hitch.
"I hope our picnic won't prove to be of the Sunday-school variety," said Kitty.
"I'm sure our Sunday-school picnics at home are always very nice," Sarah said reprovingly.