The children thought nothing ever tasted so good as the corn roasted there; there were grapes and apples besides and some fascinating bon-bons, but the corn was the most fun, they insisted.
Not being in the habit of providing for such feasts Thompson forgot the salt, and Marjorie and Caro had the excitement of running to the house and having the cook inquire what they were going to do with salt.
On a seat made of a plank supported on bricks the three children sat and feasted and chattered, while Walter looked on and enjoyed the experience of acting once more as host.
Everybody knows the peculiar pleasure of a fire out of doors; the day was cool enough to make its warmth agreeable, and the sight and sound of the crackling flames was like a tonic to the spirits.
After the feast was over they played games, such as “I have a word that rhymes with—” and “My ship comes sailing—.”
They asked conundrums, and Thompson showed himself to be an accomplished sleight-of-hand man, finding silver dollars in impossible places, and making handkerchiefs appear and disappear, in a surprising manner. Never was more fun crowded into one short afternoon.
“It has been a beautiful picnic, and I am very much obliged to you,” Caro said to Walter as they were separating.
“So am I,” echoed Marjorie, and Tom would have said the same if he hadn’t been bashful, as it was he could only grin.
“I am just as much obliged to you for coming to my picnic,” Walter replied, and he added to Caro, “Goodby little Candle.” This was the first time in more than four years that he had given any pleasure to anybody, he thought on the way to the house.
Miss Elizabeth stood at the door: “Surely Walter you are staying out too late,” she said: “Are you not chilled?”