“I’ll do it myself, Tows. I think Miss Armacost would be better satisfied, and I’d be surer myself,” interrupted the reporter. “You see, lad, it’s her picnic.”
“O—oh! I thought it was ours.”
“So it is. Belongs to all of us.”
The gentleman hurried away; and the moment he did so the bell began again to ring. Towsley, and even Molly, looked frightened, but Miss Lucy was now able to laugh at the incident; and when Molly asked, earnestly:
“Do you suppose it could be a ghost, after all?” she replied indignantly:
“No, indeed. But what the gentleman said has reminded me of something else. It must be a ‘picnic,’ after all. It wouldn’t do to take those hungry lads for a ride in the sharp air and then give them nothing to eat afterward. They will have to be fed. We will have to hunt up a caterer and hire a hall, I suppose, and——”
Miss Armacost’s face expressed the fact that she was undertaking a vast enterprise, and was rather frightened now by her own temerity.
“Oh! I’ll tell you!” cried Molly eagerly.
“Tell what, child?”