“I will, indeed, Patty.”
And then, peace being thoroughly established, the trouble passed out of their minds forever, and the old chummy relations were resumed. They had a beautiful drive along the coast, and, when they got back to “The Pebbles,” it was nearly lunch time. They found the whole crowd assembled on the veranda, and Mr. Van Reypen seemed to be spokesman at a very important conference.
“It’ll be the most fun of anything you ever saw!” he declared. “A real old-fashioned picnic! None of your modern country-club affairs. But a tablecloth spread on the ground, and sandwiches and devilled eggs, and a campfire to boil the coffee, and lemonade, and hopper-grasses hopping in the pie, and everything just as it should be! Oh, gorgeous!”
“Why sit on the ground?” asked Christine. “Aren’t there any benches in the picnic place?”
“We’re not going to a picnic grounds, little girl,” Mr. Van Reypen informed her; “we’re going to a real, live woods; to the darksome depths of a dingley dell.”
“Tell us all about it!” cried Patty, as she and Kenneth joined the group.
“Entirely my own invention!” cried Philip; “it’s a picnic I’m arranging for to-morrow, and I’d be honoured if you two would deign to attend.”
“We will that!” exclaimed Patty; “but I heard something about grasshoppers. Do we have to have those?”
“No; if you prefer, you can have ants or spiders. But you can’t have a real picnic without some such attachments. Now listen to what I’ve planned! It’s just too lovely! I’ve engaged three runabouts from the amiable garage man over forninst. Camilla will make four, and, if Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield will lead the parade in their own car, we’ll have an imposing procession.”
“Not I!” cried Nan, gaily. “If you young people want to go on this entomological picnic, I’ve not the slightest objection. And I’ll see that you have enough sandwiches and devilled eggs to feed both yourselves and the grasshoppers, but I’ll have to ask you to excuse my husband and myself from attending.”