"Very," he agreed, "but whom do you mean by 'all'? Four people scarcely constitute a picnic."
"Silly boy!" she retorted; "of course Monica and the Franklyns are coming. Mumsie arranged it all with Mrs. Beauchamp yesterday, only she would not say a word until this morning, in case it should not be fine. But there's no fear of rain to-day," and she glanced up at the deep blue sky, in which no speck of cloud was visible, with great satisfaction.
"How do you propose to get there?"
"Oh, father and you are to bicycle, and mother and we four girls are going in a waggonette."
"Is Mrs. Beauchamp going to bicycle, also?" asked Marcus, gravely. He was terribly fond of teasing his young sister.
"Oh, you dreadful boy! Of course not! She isn't going at all; it's too much of a real picnic for her to enjoy."
"I'm sorry Roger has gone," mused Marcus, as he began putting his Kodak in order, with a view to some snap-shotting. "I wonder if Herschel would care to come."
He was soon striding up the quaint old street to the lodgings occupied by the Herschels. The town was very full, and rooms were at a premium, so that the Herschels had been glad to secure even such rooms as they had, in a very old-fashioned house, where the front door opened into the sitting-room, and when one sat in the low bay window, one seemed absolutely in the street.
Marcus, whistling a merry tune, paused a moment at the door, and then went by it, and tapped at the window. All the visitors acted in a very free-and-easy fashion at Sandyshore!
He was invited to "come in," and without more ado he walked into the sitting-room, where the remains of breakfast were still upon the table.