Well, they did have it; yes, indeed, they did; and a happier set of young people were never turned wild in green-woods. To be sure, there were some draw-backs; for instance, when a dozen or so went off to swing in a wild-grape vine, Sadie Brooks couldn't go, her dress was too long, and it would tear her gloves. Likewise, when they played "drop the handkerchief," "blind-man," and "down on this carpet," Susie Darrow couldn't join, because her tie-back would hardly admit of sitting down, let alone racing in the woods; besides, the wind blew her white plume all up, and took the crimp out of her hair, and then she lost her lace handkerchief, and didn't receive much attention from handsome Ralph Tremayne; and altogether, she lost her temper, declared picnics a bore, and told May Moore that no one but romps ever came to them anyhow, which, considering that both she and May were in attendance, was a remark which might have been improved on.
Sitting in a carriage all day proved to be no hardship to Bea, for didn't Dr. Barnett spend nearly all his time there? and at Miss Lottie's proposal, didn't several of them trim the phaeton in boughs and vines, and deck her out in flowers until she looked like a forest queen? and aside from being a favorite, didn't she receive so much sympathy that there was a constant court before and around her throne? and above it all, don't you suppose a certain pair of eyes, as they looked at her that day, told her a certain story more plainly than the owner's lips ever could? That she was the fairest and dearest picture to him, there, or elsewhere?
"Who is that young lady—little girl, I am almost disposed to call her, with the fresh young face and lovely eyes? The one who stands on the bank, there, with the wreath of leaves on her hat?"
Mrs. Raymond's brother asked the question, as he sat with his sister on an elevated spot under a big tree, surveying the gay crowds roaming about in all directions.
"That? It is one of the Dering twins," answered Mrs. Raymond, with a smile of interest. "But I don't know which; they are not to be distinguished; they are lovely girls, so fresh and unaffected. I suppose you have noticed them both?"
"Yes, and I disagree with you, for they are to be distinguished; I have been watching them with considerable interest. There; the other one is coming down the hill now; do you mean to tell me that you see no difference?"
"Well, surely not in face or figure," replied Mrs. Raymond, with a puzzled glance. "I see that the new-comer's hat is hanging to her neck, and has no trimming, that her gloves are gone, and she has the general appearance of having gone through a wind-mill."
"And you have struck the distinction admirably, my dear," was the smiling answer. "There was something in their faces that interested me this morning, and I have noticed them a great deal. So far as I can see, the one has had just as gay a time as the other, and done very nearly as much romping; and yet you see, she looks as fresh and sweet as when starting out, with the addition of much becoming trimming; and where she has gone heartily, yet with a girlish grace, the other has gone pell-mell, as though in defiance of any restriction on feminine gender. Do you know which is which?"
"Indeed, I do not," said Mrs. Raymond, who was not acquainted with the characteristics of the twins. "All I know is that one is Kittie and the other Kat, and that I never know which is which when I am talking to them, never having had time to study them up."
"Well, I will wager my shoe-buckle, that the one on the bank is Kittie, and the hatless one Kat," was the quiet response. "At least, that is the way it ought to be. Now I should like to meet Miss Kittie, and if you—"