Morning came, eventually, and by ten or eleven o’clock a giddy and rollicking company were gathered at Judge Thatcher’s, and everything was ready for a start. It was not the custom for elderly people to mar the picnics with their presence. The children were considered safe enough under the wings of a few young ladies of eighteen and a few young gentlemen of twenty-three or thereabouts. The old steam ferryboat was chartered for the occasion; presently the gay throng filed up the main street laden with provision-baskets. Sid was sick and had to miss the fun; Mary remained at home to entertain him. The last thing Mrs. Thatcher said to Becky, was:

“You’ll not get back till late. Perhaps you’d better stay all night with some of the girls that live near the ferry-landing, child.”

“Then I’ll stay with Susy Harper, mamma.”

“Very well. And mind and behave yourself and don’t be any trouble.”