“I know, I know,” answered her husband. “But I got a new patient this week, had two molars and an upper incisor filled at the very first sitting, and he's going to bring his children round. He's a barber on the next block.”
“Well you pay half, then,” said Trina. “It'll cost three or four dollars at the very least; and mind, the Heises pay their own fare both ways, Mac, and everybody gets their OWN lunch. Yes,” she added, after a pause, “I'll write and have Selina join us. I haven't seen Selina in months. I guess I'll have to put up a lunch for her, though,” admitted Trina, “the way we did last time, because she lives in a boarding-house now, and they make a fuss about putting up a lunch.”
They could count on pleasant weather at this time of the year—it was May—and that particular Tuesday was all that could be desired. The party assembled at the ferry slip at nine o'clock, laden with baskets. The McTeagues came last of all; Ryer and his wife had already boarded the boat. They met the Heises in the waiting-room.
“Hello, Doctor,” cried the harness-maker as the McTeagues came up. “This is what you'd call an old folks' picnic, all married people this time.”
The party foregathered on the upper deck as the boat started, and sat down to listen to the band of Italian musicians who were playing outside this morning because of the fineness of the weather.
“Oh, we're going to have lots of fun,” cried Trina. “If it's anything I do love it's a picnic. Do you remember our first picnic, Mac?”
“Sure, sure,” replied the dentist; “we had a Gotha truffle.”
“And August lost his steamboat,” put in Trina, “and papa smacked him. I remember it just as well.”
“Why, look there,” said Mrs. Heise, nodding at a figure coming up the companion-way. “Ain't that Mr. Schouler?”
It was Marcus, sure enough. As he caught sight of the party he gaped at them a moment in blank astonishment, and then ran up, his eyes wide.