Gladys was a pretty little girl, though not at all like Marjorie. She was about the same age, but smaller, and with light hair and blue eyes. She was more sedate than Midget, and more quiet in her ways, but she had the same love of fun and mischief, and more than once the two girls had been separated in the schoolroom because of the pranks they concocted when together.
Miss Lawrence, their teacher, was a gentle and long-suffering lady, and she loved both little girls, but she was sometimes at her wits' end to know how to tame their rollicking spirits.
Gladys was as pleased as Marjorie at the prospect of the picnic. Often the Maynard children had their Ourdays without inviting other guests, but when outsiders were invited they always remembered the happy occasions.
All through the week preparations went on, and on Friday Ellen, the cook, gave up most of the day to the making of cakes and tarts and jellies. The next morning she was to get up early to fry the chicken and prepare the devilled eggs.
Mr. Maynard brought home candies and fruit from the city, and a huge can of ice-cream was ordered from the caterer.
The start was to be made at nine o'clock Saturday morning, for it was a long drive, and everybody wanted a long day in the woods.
Friday evening was fair, with a beautiful sunset, and everything boded well for beautiful weather the next day.
Rosy Posy, after her bread-and-milk supper, went happily off to bed, and dropped to sleep while telling her beloved Boffin of the fun to come. The other children dined with their parents, and the conversation was exclusively on the one great subject.
"I don't think it could rain; do you, Father?" said Kitty, looking over her shoulder, at the fading sunset tints.
"I think it could, my dear, but I don't think it will. All signs point to fair weather, and I truly believe we'll have a perfect Ourday and a jolly good time."