"Here's a daisy for Mrs. Boyd," Bell laughed.
"Let's give that to Mr. Boyd and cut her one of these old-fashioned
spice pinks," Hilary said.
"Better put a bit of pepper-grass for the Imp," Tracy suggested, as the
girls went from place to place up and down the long table.
"Paul's to have a pansy," Hilary insisted. She remembered how, if it
hadn't been for Pauline's "thought" that wet May afternoon, everything
would still be as dull and dreary as it was then.
At her own place she found a spray of belated wild roses, Tom had laid
there, the pink of their petals not more delicate than the soft color
coming and going in the girl's face.
"We've brought for-get-me-not for you, Shirley," Bell said, "so that
you won't forget us when you get back to the city."
"As if I were likely to!" Shirley exclaimed.
"Sound the call to supper, sonny!" Tom told Bob, and Bob, raising the
farm dinner-horn, sounded it with a will, making the girls cover their
ears with their hands and bringing the boys up with a rush.
"It's a beautiful picnic, isn't it?" Patience said, reappearing in time
to slip into place with the rest.
"And after supper, I will read you the club song," Tracy announced.
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