THE RABBIT HUTCH.
[THE FRIDAY PICNIC.]
BY MATTHEW WHITE, JUN.
"But you can't expect Hatty to put off her birthday, can you?" and Ralph Wicksley shied a small pebble against the hand of his friend by way of emphasizing the absurdity of the idea.
"Oh, pshaw! of course not," replied the other boy, with a half-smile; "but ten chances to one it rains at a picnic anyway, and on a Friday, and the 13th of the month, there's no knowing what may not happen."
"Why, George Hendon, how long since you've turned a superstitious pagan?" exclaimed a voice behind the two, who were taking a "sun bath" on the beach at Seamere.
"Hello, Graham!" cried Ralph, springing to his feet. "We'll leave the matter to you. You know about the picnic we're to give your sister on her thirteenth birthday? Well, we've just discovered that it occurs not only on the 13th of the month, but on a Friday besides, and George here thinks we ought to postpone it on that account. It's all nonsense, isn't it?"
"I don't believe any of the girls will go on that day," put in George, by way of influencing Graham Burd's answer.