"Oh, George, have you heard anything from Ray yet?" Betsy suddenly asked.
"Yes, and I must have left the letter at the office," he replied, feeling in every pocket for the missing letter. "I can tell you its contents, however. His school is over, and he is in Afton now. The letter came from there. He will be down on the five o'clock train to-night, and Edward and Daisy Lawton will come with him. All will remain over the picnic to-morrow. Ray agrees to make the speech, as he calls it, to the Sunday-school, and all three will help us with the singing; so we are all provided for in that direction. It now promises to be a fine day; I shall stop the mill, and I see no reason why we may not have a grand time."
"Are we going to White Rock Lake, papa?" asked Bessie, a child of five or six years.
"Yes, dear," responded her father.
"Wid horses?" cried Master two-year-old Bob.
"Yes, with horses and wagons," replied George, tossing the boy high in the air, and catching him as he came down; "and when we get there, we shall have boating and swinging and a feast, and Uncle Ray will make a speech to the children, and the children will sing, and we shall have a big time generally, for young folks as well as old ones. Do you want to go, sir?"
"Me drive the horses," cried Bob, struggling to get down on the floor; and, succeeding, he pranced around in imitation of the steeds he had such a passion for.
"You'll go over to the train, of course, George?" asked his wife.
"Yes, and you had better come down to the office, and go over with me also. Nettie is going. We'll give them a family welcome," responded George.
The five o'clock train came rushing up to the little station, and scarcely was at a standstill, when the two young men and Daisy stepped down on the platform, and hurried toward the waiting Branfords.