Before Lucy was able to reach the fence, the hitching strap had given away under the unusual strain, sending old Bess to her knees. But with no trace of the stiffness of age, she was up in an instant and galloping across the pasture, a number of enraged hornets in hot pursuit. At the crucial moment Amy’s finger pressed the button, thus preserving a record of a fact which needed to be substantiated by even more convincing evidence than the testimony of eight disinterested witnesses. Now that it was no longer a question of Bess’s safety, the courageous trio who had gone to her rescue, betook themselves to flight.
At the edge of the woods they reconnoitred. The hornets had apparently given up the pursuit and were circling about their endangered castle, ready to sound the alarm in case of hostile approach. Considering that they had advanced into the enemy’s camp, so to speak, the girls had come off very well. Lucy had been stung twice, to be sure, and Peggy once, while Priscilla’s right eye was rapidly closing in testimony to the effectiveness of the dagger thrusts of the vindictive little warriors. But it might easily have been much worse.
Claire, who had rushed forward to greet the returning heroines, put her hands before her eyes at the sight of Priscilla’s unsymmetrical countenance. “You’re hurt,” she shrieked. “Oh, do you suppose you’ll be blind?”
“Blind! What nonsense,” returned Priscilla brusquely. “The sting is right over my eyebrow.” But the reassuring statement failed to appease Claire’s apprehensions. After inquiring hysterically of each of the company in turn, as to the probability that Priscilla would lose her sight, Claire succumbed to tears, and for twenty minutes absorbed the attention of the picnic party. Priscilla, it must be confessed, stood somewhat aloof, confining her assistance to remarking at intervals that something, not defined, was too silly for words. But the others were more sympathetic and in course of time Claire’s sobs became gradually less violent, and leaning against Peggy’s shoulder, she was able to say faintly that she was sorry to be so foolish and upset everything.
“Where’d you get stung?” demanded Dorothy, who, now that her earlier fears were assuaged, was inclined to look upon the excitement as a pleasing variation on the hackneyed forms of entertainment. Then, without waiting for an answer, “Aunt Peggy, do you s’pose those hornets have eated up all that nice gingerbread?”
“Oh, our luncheon!” Peggy cried. “I’d forgotten that we hadn’t more than started. Let’s bring everything up here and finish in peace.”
Leaving Claire to the ministrations of Dorothy and Aunt Abigail, the others started off to put Peggy’s suggestion into execution, Lucy walking at Peggy’s side. “I’m awfully sorry I spoiled your picnic,” she said in a constrained voice.
“Spoiled the picnic? You?”
“Yes, it was all my fault, for tying Bess so near that hornets’ nest. I suppose I should have been more careful, but the bushes were thick all around it, and I never noticed.”
Peggy patted her arm reassuringly. “It wasn’t your fault a bit, and the picnic isn’t spoiled. We’ve time for lots of fun yet, and besides, little exciting things like this rather add spice. When we go home and tell about the good times we’ve had, we’ll mention that hornets’ nest one of the first things.”