"Not at all. There could not be too many of you. I am Major Fern. I live down the road a bit. You can find the house by the big iron gates opening onto the avenue." Major Fern looked at his watch. "It's now a little past twelve. May I expect you at a quarter past one? Mrs. Fern will be delighted. There are--how many of you?" Margaret told him promptly. "That's as small as an Exmoor class," he observed. "An unusually small class. But--I've heard of you from Miss Walker--an unusually bright one, I understand. It will be a great pleasure to entertain so many charming young ladies at once." The girls were almost speechless with surprise and gratitude. Even Margaret was for once reduced to a state of shyness. "We are very grateful to you, Major Fern," she said, after some hesitation, "and if you are sure it is not too much of an imposition, we accept with pleasure." So it was that Charlie's Oak was the indirect means of bringing the Senior Ramble of that year to a successful termination. CHAPTER V. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. "Will somebody please inform me how they can get up a lunch for this crowd in an hour's time?" asked Nance, who, having spent her life in the narrow quarters of a boarding house, was not accustomed to avalanches of unexpected guests. "Oh, I don't think it will be very difficult," Molly replied. "Major Fern is a farmer. He probably has lots of hams in the smoke house and plenty of eggs in the hen house and milk in the dairy and preserves and pickles in the pantry, and if there isn't enough bread the cook can make up some hot biscuits or corn bread." "I know it couldn't embarrass you, Molly, dear. You'd be sure to find plenty of food for company," laughed Nance. But Molly was not far wrong in her suppositions of the lunch that Major Fern unexpectedly called upon his wife and daughters and servants to prepare. Alice was the only member of his family who was not entirely cordial when the senior class of Wellington at last descended upon the big old farmhouse at lunch time. She had buttered and sliced bread until her back ached, and she cast many angry glances at her ruddy-faced father tranquilly slicing ham in the pantry. "There are times when Papa is a real nuisance," she thought angrily. While Mrs. Fern pointed out piles of plates on the pantry shelf to a maid, her husband told her the history of the morning. "So you see, my dear," he finished, "that this party is really Charlie's party. We are doing it for his sake. It would be just the sort of thing he would have done himself. I remember he brought his entire class home once to Sunday morning breakfast. He had invited them and forgotten to mention it to Mother." "And they made a wreath for him?" asked Mrs. Fern irrelevantly, as she wiped a tear from her eye. The Major blinked and went on slicing ham industriously. "It's as fresh in my mind as if it had happened yesterday," he said presently in a low voice.