There was some justice in Rosie’s complaint. The day’s program of swimming, tennis, croquet, bicycling, reading and games had been broken into by the coming of the berry season. Blueberries and blackberries were thick in the vicinity and the children enjoyed enormously eating the fruit they had gathered.
Floribel taught the little girls how to make blueberry cake and blackberry grunt and on their teacher’s day out, the Little House was sure to have one of these delicacies for luncheon and another for dinner. The Big Six tried to do everything of course; and as Laura complained, they succeeded in doing everything badly and no one thing very well. One day Maida appeared at the table with a radiant look of one who has spawned an idea.
“Granny,” she said, “we haven’t had a picnic on the beach yet. Every summer we go to the beach once at least. Can’t we go this week on Floribel’s day out? We girls will cook the luncheon and pack it all up nicely.”
“But the beach is pretty far away,” Mrs. Dore said warily. “How far is it? Could you walk to it?”
“It’s between four and five miles,” Maida answered hazily. “You see the little children could go in the motor and the rest of us—the Big Six—could go on our bicycles.”
“But I don’t think,” Mrs. Dore said, “that I’d like you children to go so far away without a grown person with you.”
“Yes, of course,” Maida said, “you and Granny come too.”
“But with Zeke and Floribel away,” Mrs. Dore protested, “who would drive the automobile?”
Maida’s face fell. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I never thought of that.”
All the faces about the table—they had grown bright in anticipation of this new excursion—grew dark.