It was not quite four o'clock when Mrs.Sherman stepped into the carriage at the door, followed by Eliot with an armful of wraps, which might be needed later in the evening.

Every spare inch of the carriage was packed with things for the picnic.

A huge lunch hamper stood on the front seat beside the coachman, and he could scarcely find room for his feet for the big freezer of ice-cream that took up so much space.

Rugs, cushions, and camp-stools were tucked in at every corner, and Mrs.Sherman held Joyce's mandolin in her lap.
"Oh, girls!" she called, leaning out of the carriage and looking up at the second story windows.

"Can I trust one of you to post the letter that I have left on the hall table ?" Two bright faces appeared at the same instant at different windows, and two voices called in the same breath, one answering, "Yes, godmother," and the other, "Yes, Cousin Elizabeth." "I would take it myself," said Mrs.Sherman, "if I were going past the post-office, but I have to drive a roundabout way to the Ross place, to get some berries I engaged for the picnic.