CHAPTER XV 



" UNDERNEATH my stroking hand, 

 Startled eyes of hazel bland 



Kindling, growing larger, 

 Up thou leapest with a spring, 

 Full of prank and cuvetting, 

 Leaping like a charger." 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING. 



OH, wasn't I wild with delight when, 

 in the glorious mid - September, 

 while the sea was such an azure 

 blue, and the fields all shining with drifts of 

 goldenrod, aunt Mary and the doctor de- 

 cided to have one of their grand picnics, on 

 the anniversary of their wedding-day. I 

 was all alert for days before, my little ears 

 pricked up and my eyes full of gold-and- 

 brown interrogation points, while aunt 

 Mary was discussing with mamma as to 

 where we should go. 



Should we ride or sail? Should we 

 spread our feast under the singing pines on 

 the lovely shores of Ashumet pond ? Or on 

 the great flat rock in the shade of the redo- 



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