"So they are," said Mr. Maynard. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do.

We'll take them to the dining-room and continue our nut game out there."

So each carried a bowl of nuts, or a cocoanut, and all went to the dining-room.

There the extension-table was spread out full length, and contained a lot of things. On big sheets of white paper were piles of sifted sugar.

Large empty bowls there were, and big spoons, and plates and dishes filled with figs and dates, and oranges and all sorts of goodies.

"What's it all for?" said Marjorie. "It's too early for lunch, and too late for breakfast."

"It's the rest of the nut game," said Mr. Maynard. "I am Professor Nuttall, or Know-it-all; and I'm going to teach you children what I hope will be a valuable accomplishment. Do any of you like candy?"

Replies of "We do," and "Yes, sir," came so emphatically that Mr.

Maynard seemed satisfied with the answers.

"Well, then, we'll make some candy that shall be just the best ever!

How's that?"

"Fine!" "Glorious!" "Goody, goody!" "Great!" "Oh, Father!" and "Ah!"

came loudly from six young throats, and Mrs. Maynard and Rosy Posy came to join the game.

Sarah came, too, bringing white ap.r.o.ns for everybody, boys and all, and then Nurse Nannie appeared, and marched them off, two by two, to wash their hands for the candy-making process.

CHAPTER V

A NOVEL PICNIC

But at last they were all ready to begin.

Mr. Maynard, in his position of teacher, insisted on absolute system and method, and everything was arranged with care and regularity.

"The first thing to learn in candy-making," he said, "is neatness; and the second, accuracy."

"Why, Father," cried Dorothy, "I didn't know you knew how to make candy!"

"I know more than you'd believe, to look at me. And now, if you four girls will each squeeze the juice of an orange into a cup, we'll begin."

Marjorie and Kitty and Gladys and Dorothy obeyed instructions exactly, and soon each was carefully breaking an egg, and still more carefully separating the white from the yolk.

Mrs. Maynard seemed to find plenty to do just waiting on the workers, and it was largely owing to her thoughtfulness that oranges and eggs and cups and spoons appeared when needed, almost as if by magic.

Meantime the two boys were working rapidly and carefully, too. They grated cocoanut and chocolate; they cut up figs and seeded dates; they chopped nuts and raisins; and they received admiring compliments from Mrs. Maynard for the satisfactory results of their work.

"Oh, isn't it fun!" exclaimed Marjorie, as she and Gladys were taught to mould the creamy, white _fondant_ they had made, into tiny b.a.l.l.s. Some of these white b.a.l.l.s the smaller girls pressed between two nut kernels, or into a split date; and others were to be made into chocolate creams.

This last was a thrilling process, for it was not easy at first to drop the white ball into the hot black chocolate, and remove it daintily with a silver fork, being most careful the while not to leave untidy drippings.

Cocoanut b.a.l.l.s were made, and nougat, which was cut into cubes, and lovely, flat peanut sugar cakes.

The boys did all these things quite as well as the girls, and all, except Rosy Posy, worked with a will and really accomplished wonders.

Each was allowed to eat five finished candies of any sort and at any time they chose, but they were on their honor not to eat more than five.

"Oh," sighed Marjorie, as she looked at the shining rows of goodies on plates and tins, "I'd like to eat a hundred!"

"You wouldn't want any luncheon, then," said her father. "And as it's now noon, and as our candies are all done, I suggest that you all scamper away to some place where soap and water grow wild, and return as soon as possible, all tidy and neat for our picnic luncheon."

"Lunch time!" cried Gladys, in surprise. "It can't be! Why, we've only been here a little while."

But it was half-past twelve, and for the first time that whole morning the children looked out of the windows.

"It's still raining," said King, "and I'm glad of it. We're having more fun than at an outdoor picnic, _I_ think."

"So do I!" cried all the others, as they ran away upstairs.

Shortly after, seven very spick-and-span-looking children presented themselves in the lower hall. Curls had been brushed, hair-ribbons freshly tied, and even Boffin had a new blue ribbon round his neck.

"Now for the real picnic!" cried Mr. Maynard, as he led the way into the living-room.

As Marjorie entered, she gave a shriek of delight, and turned to rush into her father's arms.

"Oh, Daddy!" she cried. "You do beat the Dutch! What a lovely picnic!

It's a million times better than going to the woods!"

"Especially on a day like this," said her father.

The others, too, gave exclamations of joy, and indeed that was small wonder.

The whole room had _almost_ been turned into a woodland glen.

On the floor were spread some old green muslin curtains that had once been used for private theatricals or something.

Round the walls stood all the palms and ferns and plants that belonged in other parts of the house, and these were enough to give quite an outdoorsy look to the place.

To add to this, great branches of leaves were thrust behind sofas or tables. Some leaves were green and some had already turned to autumn tints, so it was almost like a real wood.

Chairs and tables had been taken away, and to sit on, the children found some big logs of wood, like trunks of fallen trees, and some large, flat stones.

James, the coachman, and Thomas, the gardener, had been working at the room all the time the children were making candy, and even now they were peeping in at the windows to see the young people enjoying themselves.

In the middle of the room was what looked like a big, flat rock. As it was covered with an old, gray rubber waterproof, it was probably an artificial rock, but it answered its purpose. Real stones, twigs, leaves, and even clumps of moss were all about on the green floor cloth, and overhead were the children's birds, which had been brought down from the playroom, and which sang gaily in honor of the occasion.

"Isn't it wonderful?" said Dorothy Adams, a little awed at the transformation scene; "how did you do it, Mr. Maynard?"

"I told my children," he replied, "that since they couldn't go to the picnic the picnic should come to them, and here it is."

Rosy Posy discovered a pile of hay in a corner, and plumped herself down upon it, still holding tightly her beloved Boffin.