"See here, Horace," said Grace, very grandly, "we think you'd better go a-strawberrying to-day."

"I reckon I won't if I don't want to," said Horace, working the flag out of his cap. He knew the girls thought he was almost always in the way.

"I want to tell you something, Horace," said aunt Madge, stroking his hair. "Mr. Allen is going out to North Pond with some other gentleman, fishing, and I begged him to let you go; and he said he would, though he wouldn't take the girls for any thing."

"There, girls," cried Horace, with beaming face. "Did Mr. Allen truly say so, auntie? Of course he wouldn't have girls go. If we caught a fish, how they would scream; wouldn't they, though?"

Horace darted off to find Mr. Allen, and so he was out of the girls'

way.

"Now," said aunt Madge, smiling, "tell me what girls you want to ask, Grace."

So they gave several names--Grace and Susy--which Prudy repeated after them.

"But where is Abby Grant?" said aunt Madge. "Don't you want her?"

Grace and Susy looked at each other without speaking. Prudy looked at them.

"I don't go with such poor girls when I'm home," said Grace.

"Nor I don't," said Susy.

"Nor me neither," chimed in little Prudy, glad to know what to say.

Aunt Madge shook her curly head. "I guess you mustn't have a party,"

said she, "if you slight good little girls because they are poor. Why, I should ask her a great deal quicker, because it isn't often she has any thing nice to eat at home."

"So would I," said Grace, looking ashamed. "You may put her name down, auntie."

"Yes, put her name down, auntie," said Prudy.

Such a time as there was to get ready for that party! Aunt Madge and aunt Louise worked with all their might, cooking nice things, and the children were too happy to keep still. Susy's mother had gone back to Portland.

When the first little girl arrived, Grace and Susy hadn't the slightest idea what to do with her, and aunt Madge had to go in and set them to playing "Puss in the corner."

The next girl that came was Abby Grant.

"I s'posed ye wouldn't come," said Prudy. "We never asked you."

"Why, child," said Grace, blushing, "yes we did ask her, too."

"O, so we did," said foolish little Prudy. "We asked you, Abby, 'cause you don't get any thing nice to eat to your house!"

Grace didn't shake Prudy, only because she didn't dare to. In a few minutes all the little girls had come, and the whole party went into the front yard to play. Aunt Madge made believe she was a little girl, and played "Ring Round Rosy," "Catch," and "b.u.t.ton," as hard as any body. When they had played till they were all out of breath, aunt Louise sent them to the summer-house in the garden to rest, while she and aunt Madge set the table in the front yard. O, the apple puffs, and lemon tarts, and little seed cakes, and frosted cake, and candy, looked so good to poor little Abby Grant! Then the raspberries, like red coral, and the white currants, like round pearls! Then the flowers, fresh from the garden!

The children sat on the double steps of the long piazza to eat their supper. They had plenty of room, and it was nice fun to peep round the great white pillars at their neighbors' plates, and whisper to one another, "I'm having a grand time, ain't you?" "What splendid cake!"

"Don't you wish you lived here?"

And the two aunties smiled, and said to each other,--

"It is worth all our trouble to see these children so happy."

After the table was cleared away they sang several pieces, and Prudy's sweet little voice filled all the pauses with some funny little chorus of her own.

When the party broke up, the children were quite tired out, and glad to go to bed.

"Well," said Grace, as they went slowly upstairs, "didn't my picnic go off nicely?"

"_Your_ pignig?" said Prudy; "why it b'longs to _me_! I had it myself."

"Hush," said Susy. "Cousin Grace came two thousand miles to see us, and grandma promised her this party, and she had it."

"There, now, Susy," said Prudy, much grieved, "I've got a cent, and I _was_ goin' to buy you some shiny shoes, but now I shan't."

Grace and Susy could not help laughing, and poor tired little Prudy could not bear that.

"There," cried she, "don't you do that again! If you'll say 'twas _my_ pignig, Susy Parlin, then I'll kiss you; but if you say it isn't, I won't speak to you again--never in my world!"

"Well, it wasn't your picnic--so there," said Susy.

Prudy settled her cheek to the pillow.

"Susy Parlin," said she, drowsily, "I ain't a-goin' to speak to you again--till--you--say--'twas--my--pig----"

But in the middle of a word Prudy made a mistake and dropped off to sleep.

CHAPTER V

PRUDY IN THE PINES

"No, my dears," said grandma. "I couldn't consent to let you go strawberrying 'up by the Pines' as you call it. It is Mr. Judkins's mowing-field."

"But, grandma," said Grace, "Johnny Gordon went there yesterday, and there wasn't any fuss about it."

"Then you may be sure Mr. Judkins did not know it," said grandma. "If he should catch any children in his field, he would be sure to give them a severe scolding."

"Besides," chimed in aunt Madge, "Prudy isn't fit to walk so far--she isn't very well."

"No, she is quite out of sorts," said grandma. "So if you must go somewhere, you may take your little baskets and go out in the meadow on the other side of the cornfield. Only take good care of Prudy; now remember."

"Grandma always says that over," said Susy, as the three children were on their way to the meadow; "and aunt Madge always says it too--'take care of Prudy!' As if she were a little baby."

"That is all because she cries so much, I presume," said Grace, looking at poor Prudy rather sternly. "I did hope, Susy, that when Horace went down to the 'crick' fishing, you and I might go off by ourselves, and have a nice time for once. But here is 'little Pitcher'

right at our heels. We never can have any peace. Little Miss Somebody thinks she must follow, of course."