“Humph! T’won’t rain, you see’f it does! my papa didn’t say nuffin’ ’bout it,” sniffed Pollio, as they turned, and formed a line again to march to the hall.
They had no sooner entered than it began to pour. There were no tables in the hall; and the teachers said each family might eat in a seat by itself, and call it a “basket picnic.”
Nobody liked this; but perhaps there was not a child present so disappointed as little Hop-clover. She did not suppose any one knew what she carried in her paper bag; and she had meant to set the bag on the table beside the baskets, where it would not be noticed. But now she must eat with several other children, beside Miss Ware her teacher, who was a fine lady in a beautiful silk dress and lace shawl. She had eaten very little breakfast, but she would almost rather starve than open that paper bag.
“Why don’t you eat, Cindy?” asked the little girl at her left, with a bit of nice cake in her mouth.
“I guess my head aches some,” replied Hop-clover; and it did really ache, and her heart too.
Aunt Ann, who was three seats behind Hop-clover, happened to look up just as she was passing the boiled eggs, and saw that hungry, friendless look on the poor lame girl’s face.
“Why, how I’ve been neglecting that child!” said she. “Make room for her, Dick and Edy, and I’ll go bring her into our seat.”
So she went and brought her, and Hop-clover’s headache went off in a twinkling; though I fancy it wasn’t Nanty’s gold smelling-bottle that cured it, so much as the cream-biscuits, cold meat, and crumpets.
“Oh, I wish she was my auntie!” thought little Hop-clover, gazing at pretty Miss Ann wistfully.
Posy, thinking she looked sober about something, crept closer to her, and laid her cheek against her hand.