But Aunt Emma was not going to have any
crying at her picnic.
"Who's going to gather me sticks to make my fire?" she said suddenly, in
a solemn voice.
"I am! I am!" shouted both the children at once, and out came Milly's
smiles again, like the sun from behind a cloud.
"And who's going to lay the table-cloth?"
"We are! we are!"
"And who's going to hand the bread and butter?"
"I am!" exclaimed Milly, "and Olly shall hand the cake."
"And who's going to _eat_ the bread and butter?"
"All of us!" shouted the children, and Milly added, "Father will want a
_big_ plate of bread and butter, I daresay."
"I should think he would, after all this rowing," said Mr. Norton. "Now
then, look out for a bump!"
[Illustration: "So they put Olly up on a tall piece of rock, and he
sang."]
Bump! Splash! there was the boat scraping along the pebbles near the
shore; out sprang Mr. Norton, first on to a big stone, then on to the
shore, and with one great pull he brought the boat in till it was close
enough for Aunt Emma and Mrs. Norton to step on to the rocks, and for
the children to be lifted out.
"Oh! what a nice place!" cried Milly, looking about her, and clapping
her hands, as she always did when she was pleased. It was a point of
rock running out into the lake, a "peninsula" Milly called it, when she
had been all round it, and it was covered with brown heather spread all
over the ground, and was delightfully soft and springy to sit upon.
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