AS IS the invariable custom with all thrifty farm folk, the Treat family was astir as soon as the sun had begun his journey across the sky. Just as the first bright streaks of light shot up from the horizon in the east, Mr. Treat went to the stock barns to do his morning chores, and his good wife was busy in her kitchen preparing the morning meal. The boys were eager to lend a hand—an extraordinary state of affairs, to say the least, but they were so brimming full of excitement at the prospects of the day before them that finally they were banished from the kitchen, their mother declaring them nuisances and far more of a hindrance than a help.
As the sound of the clicking gate leading from the barnyard to the vegetable garden at the rear of the house proclaimed Mr. Treat’s return, his wife poured out the steaming, fragrant coffee and Tom was summoned to carry the savory ham and eggs to the table. Mrs. Treat was one of those women who realize that a farmer must dilly-dally at his meals no more than any business man, and seldom indeed was this family asked to wait for a meal.
“Looks like a fine day ahead of us,” Mr. Treat reported as he opened the door. “The little fog in the valley is clearing fast, and by noon it will be warm enough for our picnic dinner in the maple grove.”
“Evening red and morning gray
Sets the traveler on his way,”
quoted Mrs. Treat. “I was not worrying about the weather, for that sign never fails.”
“Goody! Goody!” exulted Dick. “Let’s hurry, father.”
“Well, all the stock has been fed, and my work is done. If mother will pack the lunch, we’ll be off within the hour. I’ve taken a look at the automobile and everything is in shape for the start.”
“I’d much rather go in the carriage, with Browny,” remonstrated Mrs. Treat nervously. “You know, father—”
“Oh, father, please don’t!” chorussed Tom and Harry in a breath.