Part 24 (1/2)

CHAPTER XVII

GOOD NEWS

Grandfather remembered Christopher's promise to Jane and did get up another picnic ”for the ladies,” but the ladies included only Jane and her grandmother. Mrs. Hartwell-Jones and Letty were not invited for several reasons, chiefly because grandmother had expressed the wish to have it strictly a family party. She realized that the end of Jane's and Christopher's visit at Sunnycrest was drawing near; that before very long their father and mother would return and carry the children back to their home in the city. And so she thought that one last party, all by themselves, would be very nice. Jane and Christopher thought so too.

They were always happy and contented with their grandparents.

Of course they went to the woods-the only picnic grounds worth considering except on circus day. Grandfather drove past the swimming pool, so that Jane might see the spot where Christopher had learned to swim and wherein he had almost drowned on that memorable afternoon. They went on farther yet into the woods. It was all deliciously green and brown; still and cool. Jane was quite confident that she would catch sight of a fairy before long.

Grandfather had brought some fis.h.i.+ng-tackle, and after the picnic ground was chosen and the horse unharnessed and made comfortable, they all sat in a row on the bank of the stream and fished. At the end of half an hour Jane, to Christopher's secret envy, was the only one who had caught anything. It was a fat little perch that wriggled and shone in the sunlight.

”Oh, the poor little thing!” cried Jane, and covered her face with her hands while grandfather took it off the hook.

”Coward-y cat!” jeered Christopher. ”Isn't that just like a girl! Afraid of a fis.h.!.+”

Jane took up the cold, squirming thing and held it tight in both hands, looking her brother straight in the eyes.

”I am not a coward-y cat, Kit Baker,” she said quietly. ”I just couldn't bear to see the poor thing being hurt with that dreadful sharp hook.”

Christopher felt subdued. It had not occurred to him to feel sorry for the fish.

”It's only a fish,” he muttered. ”They don't feel much.”

”Janey is quite right,” said grandfather. ”A truly kind heart always sympathizes with any animal, however small, that is in pain.”

They fished on patiently for another half hour, not talking much (Christopher could not keep absolutely silent) for fear of scaring away the fish, which, however, must have had either a bad fright or a warning, for they refused to bite or even nibble. Finally grandmother suggested that it was rather useless to try any longer.

”But one fish won't go very far,” grumbled Christopher. ”Let's try for just one more. It's hungry work, fis.h.i.+ng.”

”I think Huldah has packed enough in the basket to keep us from starving until supper time,” laughed grandmother, ”and as there is only one poor little fish for all of us, suppose we just put him back into the water?”

”Oh, no,” cried Christopher aggrieved.

”Oh, yes, let's,” exclaimed Jane. ”Poor little fish, we'll make him happy. He's my fish and I guess I have the right to say what shall be done with him,” she added defiantly, seizing the basket as Christopher made a lunge for it. ”If your stomach wasn't so greedy, Kit Baker, your heart would be kinder.”

Jane let the wriggling pink fish slip back into the brook, where he darted out of sight in an instant among the rushes.

The hamper that Huldah had packed certainly did promise to satisfy the appet.i.te of even the hungriest people in the world. There were all sorts and conditions of sandwiches; thin and square with the crusts cut off.

Some had slices of chicken inside, others pink boiled tongue. Still others had tender leaves of dressed lettuce-these were grandmother's favorites-and others with jelly. Then there were soft ginger cakes and crisp sugar wafers; apple pie-Huldah's famous apple pie with plenty of cinnamon-hard boiled eggs that had the yolks beaten up with salad dressing; pears, plums and a whole chocolate layer cake. There were also bottles of milk and coffee which latter grandmother heated over a spirit lamp in a tiny saucepan put in for the purpose. Christopher wanted to build a fire out of sticks and bits of wood for the coffee, but grandfather said it was too hot for that.

After the luncheon was over, Jane and Christopher went off to gather moss and pine-needles. Jane had planned to make a pine pillow to take home to her mother, who declared that they always cured her headaches.

Letty had promised to help her with the sewing, for Jane did not like to sew very well, not even to make doll's clothes, and it was only a labor of love (or the occasional desire to be thought grown-up) that could induce her to use a needle.

Fir trees were somewhat scarce in the grove and the children had to walk some distance. They left grandfather and grandmother discussing something in very low, serious tones.

”What are they talking about?” asked Christopher, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his grandparents. ”They look like they sometimes do when we've been up to something.”

”But we haven't-not for a long time,” put in Jane defensively. ”Not since the time you played hookey with Perk and drowned because you didn't know how to swim.”