"Very," he agreed, "but whom do you mean by ’all’? Four people scarcely constitute a picnic." "Silly boy!" she retorted; "of course Monica and the Franklyns are coming. Mumsie arranged it all with Mrs. Beauchamp yesterday, only she would not say a word until this morning, in case it should not be fine. But there’s no fear of rain to-day," and she glanced up at the deep blue sky, in which no speck of cloud was visible, with great satisfaction. "How do you propose to get there?" "Oh, father and you are to bicycle, and mother and we four girls are going in a waggonette." "Is Mrs. Beauchamp going to bicycle, also?" asked Marcus, gravely. He was terribly fond of teasing his young sister. "Oh, you dreadful boy! Of course not! She isn’t going at all; it’s too much of a real picnic for her to enjoy." "I’m sorry Roger has gone," mused Marcus, as he began putting his Kodak in order, with a view to some snap-shotting. "I wonder if Herschel would care to come." He was soon striding up the quaint old street to the lodgings occupied by the Herschels. The town was very full, and rooms were at a premium, so that the Herschels had been glad to secure even such rooms as they had, in a very old-fashioned house, where the front door opened into the sitting-room, and when one sat in the low bay window, one seemed absolutely in the street. Marcus, whistling a merry tune, paused a moment at the door, and then went by it, and tapped at the window. All the visitors acted in a very free-and-easy fashion at Sandyshore! He was invited to "come in," and without more ado he walked into the sitting-room, where the remains of breakfast were still upon the table. With apologies for intruding so early, Marcus shook hands with a sweet-looking widow lady, the depth of whose mourning betokened recent loss, and a tall slender girl, whose clear, grey eyes seemed too large for the fragile little face surrounded with an aureole of fair hair. "I came to see if Herschel had any plans for to-day. If not, we are having a picnic at Gullane Head, about seven miles from here, and I wondered whether he would bicycle over with father and me." "Do, Leslie; it will do you good," said his mother, as the young clergyman hesitated, and demurred about leaving them for a whole day, when his time with them was getting so short. "Robina and I have plenty to amuse ourselves with." "Would you both join us?" asked Marcus. "Mother and the girls are going in a waggonette." "Thank you very much, but I am afraid you must excuse us. Robina is not very strong, and it suits us best to have a lazy time by the sea." Mrs. Herschel smiled lovingly at her daughter, whose fair face flushed at the allusion to her health, for it was a sore trial to Robina Herschel that she had always to be taken care of, and shielded from every ill wind. But she bore her cross bravely, and no word of murmuring escaped her lips, although she was denied much that goes to make a girl’s life happy.