“We’ll have more peaches picked ready for you to sort when you get back,” Mr. Watson called to the picnic party as they drove away. “I never had such a big crop.”
“We’ll help you to-morrow,” promised Bert.
Buttermilk Glen was soon reached. It was a picnic ground well known for miles around, though when those from Cloverbank arrived they had the place to themselves.
“I hear the waterfall!” cried Freddie as soon as they alighted from the auto at the entrance to the glen. The road was too rough to drive all the way up into the place.
“Yes, that’s it,” said Mrs. Watson. “It’s very pretty when the water is high; and in winter, when it freezes, it is even more beautiful. But I know some one who is sleepy!” she went on in a singing voice.
“I’m not!” quickly cried Flossie. “I didn’t come here to sleep.”
“She means Jenny,” whispered Nan, and, sure enough, the little one’s head was nodding and her eyes were closing. Her mother wrapped Jenny in a blanket and put her down under a tree, while Mr. Bobbsey got out the lunch baskets and the Bobbsey twins scattered here and there to play.
“You may have fun for about two hours, and then we’ll eat,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “After lunch you may play about some more before we start for home.”
With shouts of delight the boys and girls began exploring the picnic ground. They had never been there before, and there was much to see and admire.
“We’ll climb up the sides and get to the top of the waterfall after lunch,” Bert decided. “Maybe I can fish up there. It’s a big fall—too big for my little paddle wheel in the brook. But maybe I could make a big wheel that would turn here.”