“Rose, Ruth—oh, I’m glad to see you,” called a very sweet voice, and as they turned toward it they saw a pretty girl with a great wave of dark hair falling over her shoulders, running toward them down a little slope. She was dressed in a straight cut gown of green velvet, with fine white chemisette and sleeves of sheerest lawn. Her great eyes shone with pleasure, and her red lips were parted in excitement.
“And we, too, Lorna—dear Lorna,” they called back. They ran to meet her, and the three of them clasped hands halfway up the slope of soft grass, and then kissed rather shyly.
“Come to my bower. We will have a lovely day. I have received permission to play here till evening, and there is a little luncheon laid out for us—but come.”
As usual, Rose and Ruth found they were dressed in the same style as their small hostess. Very fine and pretty they all looked, and very happy they felt in the clear sun and shadow under the mighty trees.
The bower was a lovely spot of twisted branches and rustic work, all overgrown with vines and flowers. Inside, on a table made of a thick section of some forest tree, smoothed and mounted on a sturdy wooden pillar, were set various goodies—a small meat pie, a tiny roast bird, bread, a jug of milk and preserved fruits.
Merrily they sat down to the picnic.
“Nay, but the trouble I had to fetch enough here for the three of us,” Lorna told them. “I got one of the lads to carry the basket with the bread and milk and bird, and the rest I carried myself, waiting till there was none to see me go.”
“Suppose they came here,” Rose enquired.
“They are most of them gone on a long ride,” Lorna returned, and she looked a little pale. Then her eyes filled with tears. “I fear they are gone on a bad errand,” she whispered.
Ruth threw affectionate arms about her, while Rose patted her shoulder.