XIV MISS SALISBURY'S STORY
“Oh Miss Anstice!” cried the “Salisbury girls,” jumping to their feet.
“Sister!” exclaimed Miss Salisbury, dropping her plate, and letting all her sweet, peaceful reflections fly to the four winds.
“I never did regard picnics as pleasant affairs,” gasped Miss Anstice, as the young hands raised her, “and now they are—quite—quite detestable.” She looked at her gown, alas! no longer immaculate.
“If you could wipe my hands first, young ladies,” sticking out those members, on which were plentiful supplies of marmalade and jelly cake, “I should be much obliged. Never mind the gown yet,” she added with asperity.
“I'll do that,” cried Alexia, flying at her with two or three napkins.
“Alexia, keep your seat.” Miss Anstice turned on her. “It is quite bad enough, without your heedless fingers at work on it.”
“I NEVER DID REGARD PICNICS AS PLEASANT AFFAIRS,” GASPED MISS ANSTICE.