The next morning was cool and delightful, but one of the sort of days that is not to be trusted at Woodlands, when it comes in early August; for it may grow very sultry at noon, thunder-clouds following the change, or the wind may turn to the east, and bring a cold storm with the incoming tide.
However, everything promised well when the long brake, with its four horses, a clothes-basket of good things, and Miss Jule and Letty, called for Anne.
When they arrived at Mr. Hugh’s home, they met a disappointment. The Willoughby girls were waiting, armed with sketch-books, plant boxes, and fishing-poles, but no Mr. Hugh. He had been called to town on business, but hoped to be back in time to join them at luncheon, and they were to do everything as he had first planned—fish for bass in the big pond, shoot at a target that he had arranged for his own use in the long meadow, and cook their luncheon gypsy fashion.
“Never mind,” said Miss Jule, “this is a hen picnic; but when I was a girl we seldom had any other kind hereabouts, and yet we always had plenty of fun. I think that you girls had better ride your wheels until we come to the long hill, or else pack them into the other wagon; for with all these fishing-rods and things the brake will be full.”
The dogs had to be tied up and stay at home; for taking dogs who love to swim on a fishing excursion is a “mustn’t be.”
Mr. Hugh’s new land was a strip of several hundred acres of wild meadows, bordered by thick woods that joined his farm and followed the river quite to the Pine Ridge waterfall.
It had once been a farm; for in open places the hummocks under the rough grass told where cornfields had been. There were two tumble-down orchards (one of early and one of late apples), while raspberry vines, a ruined chimney, and tufts, here and there, of old-fashioned flowers told of a home that had gone.
The woods that bordered the river were very wild and fascinating, deep shade being made by oaks, beeches, and giant hemlocks. No trees had been cut for many years, though the dead wood had evidently been carefully cleared away.
There were great rocks covered with ferns that sloped to the river edge, where the water had whirled stone within stone and worn “pot-holes” and carved many strange devices.
The Willoughby girls were in ecstasies, for most of their summers had been spent by the sea. Elsa, the eldest, soon chose a bit for a sketch; Martica, who was a junior at Vassar, discovered material for a thesis on ferns; Louise, the youngest, set about picking delicious looking blackberries, that though now growing wild must have been the grandchildren of the fruit of the old garden. Thus it came to be that Miss Jule, Letty, Anne, and May Willoughby formed the fishing party; for no one cared to shoot at a target without Mr. Hugh to keep score and praise or criticise their shots.