THERE was some doubt about the weather. Solomon John looked at the
“Probabilities;” there were to be “areas” of rain in the New England
States.
Agamemnon thought if they could only know where the areas of rain were
to be they might go to the others. Mr. Peterkin proposed walking round
the house in a procession, to examine the sky. As they returned they
met Ann Maria Bromwick, who was to go, much surprised not to find them
ready.
Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin were to go in the carryall, and take up the lady
from Philadelphia, and Ann Maria, with the rest, was to follow in a
wagon, and to stop for the daughters of the lady from Philadelphia. The
wagon arrived, and so Mr. Peterkin had the horse put into the carryall.
A basket had been kept on the back piazza for some days, where anybody
could put anything that would be needed for the picnic as soon as it was
thought of.
Agamemnon had already decided to take a thermometer; somebody was always
complaining of being too hot or too cold at a picnic, and it would be a
great convenience to see if she really were so. He thought now he might
take a barometer, as “Probabilities” was so uncertain. Then, if it went
down in a threatening way, they could all come back.
The little boys had tied their kites to the basket. They had never tried
them at home; it might be a good chance on the hills. Solomon John
had put in some fishing-poles; Elizabeth Eliza, a book of poetry. Mr.
Peterkin did not like sitting on the ground, and proposed taking two
chairs, one for himself and one for anybody else. The little boys were
perfectly happy; they jumped in and out of the wagon a dozen times, with
new india-rubber boots, bought for the occasion.
Before they started, Mrs. Peterkin began to think she had already had
enough of the picnic, what with going and coming, and trying to remember
things. So many mistakes were made. The things that were to go in the
wagon were put in the carryall, and the things in the carryall had to be
taken out for the wagon!
Elizabeth Eliza forgot her water-proof, and had to go back for her veil,
and Mr.
Peterkin came near forgetting his umbrella.
Mrs. Peterkin sat on the piazza and tried to think. She felt as if she
must have forgotten something; she knew she must. Why could not she
think of it now, before it was too late? It seems hard any day to think
what to have for dinner, but how much easier now it would be to stay at
home quietly and order the dinner,--and there was the butcher’s cart! But
now they must think of everything.
At last she was put into the carryall, and Mr. Peterkin in front to
drive.
Twice they started, and twice they found something was left behind,--the
loaf of fresh brown bread on the back piazza, and a basket of sandwiches
on the front porch. And just as the wagon was leaving, the little boys
shrieked, “The basket of things was left behind!”
Everybody got out of the wagon. Agamemnon went back into the house, to
see if anything else were left. He looked into the closets; he shut
the front door, and was so busy that he forgot to get into the wagon
himself. It started off and went down the street without him!
He was wondering what he should do if he were left behind (why had they
not thought to arrange a telegraph wire to the back wheel of the
wagon, so that he might have sent a message in such a case!), when the
Bromwicks drove out of their yard in their buggy, and took him in.
They joined the rest of the party at Tatham Corners, where they were
all to meet and consult where they were to go. Mrs. Peterkin called to
Agamemnon, as soon as he appeared. She had been holding the barometer
and the thermometer, and they waggled so that it troubled her. It was
hard keeping the thermometer out of the sun, which would make it so
warm. It really took away her pleasure, holding the things. Agamemnon
decided to get into the carryall, on the seat with his father, and take
the barometer and thermometer.
The consultation went on. Should they go to Cherry Swamp, or Lonetown
Hill? You had the view if you went to Lonetown Hill, but maybe the drive
to Cherry Swamp was prettier.
Somebody suggested asking the lady from Philadelphia, as the picnic was
got up for her.
But where was she?
“I declare,” said Mr. Peterkin, “I forgot to stop for her!” The whole
picnic there, and no lady from Philadelphia!
It seemed the horse had twitched his head in a threatening manner as
they passed the house, and Mr. Peterkin had forgotten to stop, and Mrs.
Peterkin had been so busy managing the thermometers that she had not
noticed, and the wagon had followed on behind.
Mrs. Peterkin was in despair. She knew they had forgotten something! She
did not like to have Mr. Peterkin make a short turn, and it was getting
late, and what would the lady from Philadelphia think of it, and had
they not better give it all up?
But everybody said “No!” and Mr. Peterkin said he could make a wide turn
round the Lovejoy barn. So they made the turn, and took up the lady from
Philadelphia, and the wagon followed behind and took up their daughters,
for there was a driver in the wagon besides Solomon John.
Ann Maria Bromwick said it was so late by this time, they might as well
stop and have the picnic on the Common! But the question was put again,
Where should they go?
The lady from Philadelphia decided for Strawberry Nook--it sounded
inviting.
There were no strawberries, and there was no nook, it was said, but
there was a good place to tie the horses.
Mrs. Peterkin was feeling a little nervous, for she did not know what
the lady from Philadelphia would think of their having forgotten her,
and the more she tried to explain it, the worse it seemed to make it.
She supposed they never did such things in Philadelphia; she knew they
had invited all the world to a party, but she was sure she would never
want to invite anybody again. There was no fun about it till it was all
over. Such a mistake--to have a party for a person, and then go without
her; but she knew they would forget something! She wished they had not
called it their picnic.
There was another bother! Mr. Peterkin stopped. “Was anything broke?”
exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. “Was something forgotten?” asked the lady from
Philadelphia.
No! But Mr. Peterkin didn’t know the way; and here he was leading all
the party, and a long row of carriages following.
They stopped, and it seemed nobody knew the way to Strawberry Nook,
unless it was the Gibbons boys, who were far behind. They were made
to drive up, and said that Strawberry Nook was in quite a different
direction, but they could bring the party round to it through the
meadows.
The lady from Philadelphia thought they might stop anywhere, such a
pleasant day, but Mr. Peterkin said they were started for Strawberry
Nook, and had better keep on, So they kept on. It proved to be an
excellent place, where they could tie the horses to a fence. Mrs.
Peterkin did not like their all heading different ways; it seemed as if
any of them might come at her, and tear up the fence, especially as the
little boys had their kites flapping round. The Tremletts insisted upon
the whole party going up the hill; it was too damp below. So the Gibbons
boys, and the little boys and Agamemnon, and Solomon John, and all
the party had to carry everything up to the rocks. The large basket of
“things” was very heavy.
It had been difficult to lift it into the wagon, and it was harder to
take it out. But with the help of the driver, and Mr. Peterkin, and old
Mr. Bromwick, it was got up the hill.
And at last all was arranged. Mr. Peterkin was seated in his chair. The
other was offered to the lady from Philadelphia, but she preferred the
carriage cushions; so did old Mr. Bromwick. And the table-cloth was
spread,--for they did bring a table-cloth,--and the baskets were opened,
and the picnic really began.
The pickles had tumbled into the butter, and the spoons had been
forgotten, and the Tremletts’ basket had been left on their front
door-step. But nobody seemed to mind. Everybody was hungry, and
everything they ate seemed of the best. The little boys were perfectly
happy, and ate of all the kinds of cake. Two of the Tremletts would
stand while they were eating, because they were afraid of the ants and
the spiders that seemed to be crawling round. And Elizabeth Eliza had to
keep poking with a fern leaf to drive the insects out of the plates.
The lady from Philadelphia was made comfortable with the cushions and
shawls, leaning against a rock. Mrs. Peterkin wondered if she forgot she
had been forgotten.
John Osborne said it was time for conundrums, and asked: “Why is a
pastoral musical play better than the music we have here? Because one is
a grasshopper, and the other is a grass-opera!”
Elizabeth Eliza said she knew a conundrum, a very funny one, one of her
friends in Boston had told her. It was, “Why is--” It began, “Why is
something like--no, Why are they different?” It was something about an
old woman, or else it was something about a young one. It was very
funny, if she could only think what it was about, or whether it was
alike or different.
The lady from Philadelphia was proposing they should guess Elizabeth
Eliza’s conundrum, first the question, and then the answer, when one
of the Tremletts came running down the hill, and declared she had just
discovered a very threatening cloud, and she was sure it was going to
rain down directly.
Everybody started up, though no cloud was to be seen.
There was a great looking for umbrellas and water-proofs. Then it
appeared that Elizabeth Eliza had left hers, after all, though she had
gone back for it twice.
Mr. Peterkin knew he had not forgotten his umbrella, because he had put
the whole umbrella-stand into the wagon, and it had been brought up the
hill, but it proved to hold only the family canes!
There was a great cry for the “emergency basket,” that had not been
opened yet.
Mrs. Peterkin explained how for days the family had been putting into
it what might be needed, as soon as anything was thought of. Everybody
stopped to see its contents. It was carefully covered with newspapers.
First came out a backgammon-board. “That would be useful,” said Ann
Maria, “if we have to spend the afternoon in anybody’s barn.” Next, a
pair of andirons. “What were they for?” “In case of needing a fire
in the woods,” explained Solomon John. Then came a volume of the
Encyclopædia. But it was the first volume, Agamemnon now regretted, and
contained only A and a part of B, and nothing about rain or showers.
Next, a bag of pea-nuts, put in by the little boys, and Elizabeth
Eliza’s book of poetry, and a change of boots for Mr. Peterkin; a small
foot-rug in case the ground should be damp; some paint-boxes of the
little boys’; a box of fish-hooks for Solomon John; an ink-bottle,
carefully done up in a great deal of newspaper, which was fortunate, as
the ink was oozing out; some old magazines, and a blacking-bottle;
and at the bottom, a sun-dial. It was all very entertaining, and there
seemed to be something for every occasion but the present. Old
Mr. Bromwick did not wonder the basket was so heavy. It was all so
interesting that nobody but the Tremletts went down to the carriages.
The sun was shining brighter than ever, and Ann Maria insisted on
setting up the sun-dial. Certainly there was no danger of a shower, and
they might as well go on with the picnic. But when Solomon John and Ann
Maria had arranged the sun-dial, they asked everybody to look at their
watches, so that they might see if it was right. And then came a great
exclamation at the hour: “It was time they were all going home!”
The lady from Philadelphia had been wrapping her shawl about her, as she
felt the sun was low. But nobody had any idea it was so late! Well, they
had left late, and went back a great many times, had stopped sometimes
to consult, and had been long on the road, and it had taken a long time
to fetch up the things, so it was no wonder it was time to go away. But
it had been a delightful picnic, after all.