Marjories Busy Days | Page 8

don't care," said Midget, happily; "we'll have a lovely time,
whatever we play. I'm going over to ask Gladys now. May I, Mother?"
"Yes, Midget, run along. Tell Mrs. Fulton that Father and I are going,
and that we'd be glad to take Gladys and Dick."
Away skipped Marjorie, hatless and coatless, for it was a warm day,
and Gladys lived only across the street.
"It's so nice to have you back again, Mopsy," said Gladys, after the
invitation had been given and accepted. "I was awful lonesome for you
all summer."
"I missed you, too; but I did have a lovely time. Oh, Gladys, I wish you
could see my tree-house at Grandma's! Breezy Inn, its name is, and we
had such fun in it."

"Why don't you have one here? Won't your father make one for you?"
"I don't know. Yes, I suppose he would. But it wouldn't seem the same.
It just belongs at Grandma's. And, anyway, I'm busy all the time here.
There's so much to do. We play a lot, you know. And then I have my
practising every day, and, oh dear, week after next school will begin. I
just hate school, don't you, Gladys?"
"No, I love it; you know I do."
"Well, I don't. I don't mind the lessons, but I hate to sit cooped up at a
desk all day. I wish they'd have schools out of doors."
"Yes, I'd like that, too. I wonder if we can sit together, this year,
Mops?"
"Oh, I hope so. Let's ask Miss Lawrence that, the very first thing. Why,
I'd die if I had to sit with any one but you."
"So would I. But I'm sure Miss Lawrence will let us be together."
Gladys was a pretty little girl, though not at all like Marjorie. She was
about the same age, but smaller, and with light hair and blue eyes. She
was more sedate than Midget, and more quiet in her ways, but she had
the same love of fun and mischief, and more than once the two girls
had been separated in the schoolroom because of the pranks they
concocted when together.
Miss Lawrence, their teacher, was a gentle and long-suffering lady, and
she loved both little girls, but she was sometimes at her wits' end to
know how to tame their rollicking spirits.
Gladys was as pleased as Marjorie at the prospect of the picnic. Often
the Maynard children had their Ourdays without inviting other guests,
but when outsiders were invited they always remembered the happy
occasions.
All through the week preparations went on, and on Friday Ellen, the

cook, gave up most of the day to the making of cakes and tarts and
jellies. The next morning she was to get up early to fry the chicken and
prepare the devilled eggs.
Mr. Maynard brought home candies and fruit from the city, and a huge
can of ice-cream was ordered from the caterer.
The start was to be made at nine o'clock Saturday morning, for it was a
long drive, and everybody wanted a long day in the woods.
Friday evening was fair, with a beautiful sunset, and everything boded
well for beautiful weather the next day.
Rosy Posy, after her bread-and-milk supper, went happily off to bed,
and dropped to sleep while telling her beloved Boffin of the fun to
come. The other children dined with their parents, and the conversation
was exclusively on the one great subject.
"I don't think it could rain; do you, Father?" said Kitty, looking over her
shoulder, at the fading sunset tints.
"I think it could, my dear, but I don't think it will. All signs point to fair
weather, and I truly believe we'll have a perfect Ourday and a jolly
good time."
"We always do," said Midge, happily. "I wonder why all fathers don't
have Ourdays with their children. Gladys' father never gets home till
seven o'clock, and she has to go to bed at eight, so she hardly sees him
at all, except Sundays, and of course they can't play on Sundays."
"They must meet as strangers," said Mr. Maynard. "I think our plan is
better. I like to feel chummy with my own family, and the only way to
do it is to keep acquainted with each other. I wish I could have a whole
day with you every week, instead of only every month."
"Can't you, Father?" said Kitty, wistfully.
"No, daughter. I have too much business to attend to, to allow me a

holiday every week. But perhaps some day I can manage it. Are you
taking a hammock to-morrow, King?"
"Yes, sir. I thought Mother might like an afternoon nap, and Rosy Posy
always goes to sleep in the morning."
"Thoughtful boy. Take plenty of rope, but you