There were a few more songs; an eighth or ninth rendition of "Meet me, dearest Mandy, By the water-melion vine"-- for the benefit of Amanda, who hated it, and then the rest rose reluctantly to depart. "It's the swellest thing in the bonfire line I've ever attended," Sandy assured Mrs. Clyde; and she could excuse the phrase because of the undoubted enthusiasm of the speaker. Half a dozen of the boys tramped away in a bunch, and there floated back to the group about the fire the rhythmic refrain of "Good-night, ladies!" until it finally died away in a sleepy murmur. Only the older boys had lingered and they, after making arrangements for a horse-back ride on the morrow, slowly straggled away. "Where's Blue Bonnet?" asked Alec; he was one of the last, loitering for a final word with his hostess. "She was sitting by me a little while ago," said Sarah, looking towards the Navajo. The spot was in shadow, but as they looked in that direction, a log fell, and a slender flame sprang up. In the light they saw Blue Bonnet, curled up on the bright blanket, with her head pillowed on her arm. She was fast asleep. CHAPTER XIV A FALLING IN "HOW'S the Sleeping Beauty this morning?" was Alec's salutation to Blue Bonnet, when he appeared early next day in advance of the other picnickers. Blue Bonnet asleep at her own party had been a spectacle he would not soon forget; it was almost as funny as being absent from her first tea, on that memorable day in Woodford. "The Sleeping Beauty could find it in her heart to envy Rip Van Winkle; a nap like his is just what I crave. But no,--Sarah must needs have breakfast at cock-crow," Blue Bonnet complained. "Why, Blue Bonnet, it was after eight o'clock when I called you," returned Sarah in a grieved tone. "Sarah didn't want breakfast mistaken for lunch again," said Amanda. "My prophetic soul tells me that we are going to conduct ourselves like a model Sunday-school class to-day," Blue Bonnet remarked. "What makes you think so?" asked Amanda, in whom the memory of yesterday's trials was still undimmed. "'Well begun is half done,' you know. And this beginning is obnoxiously perfect." Blue Bonnet was wiping off the oil-cloth as she spoke; dishes were already washed, beds done, and all without a hitch. "I hope our picnic won't prove to be of the Sunday-school variety," said Kitty. "I'm sure our Sunday-school picnics at home are always very nice," Sarah said reprovingly. "Every one to his taste!" was Kitty's airy rejoinder. "You can make up your mind that this picnic won't be like any other you ever attended," Alec assured them. "Knight has a scheme up his sleeve that will bear watching. I wonder, Blue Bonnet, if Mrs. Clyde would mind letting us take coffee?" Blue Bonnet reflected. "To-morrow is Sunday and we're privileged to have it for breakfast. If we have it to-day instead I'm sure she won't object. What else shall we take?"