"'O Bessie! your hat is crushed on one side, and your hair covered with hay-seed,' retorted Nellie, who could not refrain from laughing, as she contemplated their sorry plight.
"'Don't you think we had better go home?' said Bessie ruefully, attempting to bend her disabled hat into shape.
"'Go home before noon, when we have had no fun yet?' replied Nellie, her spirits reviving now that all danger was past; 'oh, no! we have our dinner to eat, and lots of nice things to do.'
"Once more yielding to her playmate's superior sagacity, little Bessie trotted along cheerfully, until they espied a fine rock on a sloping hillside, which they immediately proposed converting into a dining-table. To reach the spot, they were obliged to pass through a piece of rough, ploughed ground, recently sown, near a little cottage, with gray, overhanging roof, and narrow, closed windows.
"Spreading a napkin for table-cloth on the rock, they were soon arranging their provisions; here a sandwich rested upon a pedestal of apple, to prevent its tilting over a slice of custard pie; there a small bottle, containing a mysterious fluid, suggestive of weak molasses and water, dripped through its broken cork into a store of pickled limes. But what matter if the gingerbread did taste of mustard, or if the chicken was encrusted with spilled sugar, on a first of May picnic?
"After surveying the result of their labors with great satisfaction, they were just preparing to enjoy the result, with appetites only sharpened by previous misfortunes, when Bessie's attention was attracted by the curtain of one of the cottage-windows being drawn aside, and a head appearing behind the glass. It was such a hideous head, with tangled white hair surmounted by a queer cap, and the face was so sharp-nosed and wrinkled, that the little girl paused, with a chicken wing elevated half-way to her mouth, to stare at the apparition fixedly.
"Nellie, noticing her sudden silence, turned also; and, when she saw the face, gave a shriek, and commenced tumbling cakes, pies, and pickles into the basket. Then the head disappeared from the window, and a comical little old man, in a dressing-gown, popped out of the door, like a spider from its hole. He hobbled towards them, shaking his cane, and croaking like a hoarse old raven.
"'Get out, will ye, a-tramping of my rye, and a-bringing of your traps under my very nose. Hullo, there! just wait till I catch ye.'
"He looked so wild and angry, as he came towards them, all the time wagging his head, and tapping the ground spitefully with his cane, that they ran away across the rye as fast as ever they could; the old man shrieking and chattering after them all the while, until they reached the wall and stumbled over into the highway, Bessie still clutching her chicken wing.
"Hurrying along as rapidly as possible, to escape from their dreadful pursuer, they came to a place of cross roads, and, puzzled which direction to take, they decided on a pleasant road turning to the right. When they had proceeded a short distance, they noticed a high fence running parallel with the road, in which was a door. Impelled by her usual heedless curiosity, Nellie turned the knob and peeped into the inclosure. The view of winding paths and shrubbery proved so inviting, that they entered. They saw broad avenues bordered by rows of fine elms, trim hedges, and flower parterres, all leading to a large mansion with closed windows and doors, as if nobody lived there, while a dome of glittering glass conservatories rose on one side. The children strolled about, every moment discovering something new to admire,—now it was a graceful-arched bridge; now it was a white statue gleaming through the shrubbery; now it was a massive carved urn, filled with hardy, clinging ivy vines.