“Be careful where you step!” called Billy suddenly; but it was too late, for with a cry of pain, his mother fell upon the thick undergrowth. Billy and his father came running. “Oh,” cried Mary Frances, “oh, dear! I ought to have told mother. I remember tripping over the vines here. Are you much hurt, Mother dear?” “Not much,” she replied, but as she made an effort to move, she sank back with a little sigh. “It isn’t a bad sprain, dear,” said the father, examining her ankle, “but you ought not walk another step.” “Oh, the poor children will be so disappointed!” “That’s just like mother!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Never to think of herself first!” “I know what you and I can do, Father,” said Billy. “Let’s make a ‘sedan chair,’ and carry mother home.” “That’s a good idea, Son—we’ll leave the girls and the lunch; and if the doctor says she may come, I’ll drive mother out late in the afternoon after she has rested.” “Oh, no, let us go with you!” cried Eleanor and Mary Frances together. “It will make me so much happier, girls,” said the mother, “if you will stay and try to enjoy yourselves. Billy will be back soon, and maybe you can have a bunch of wild flowers ready to take home when you come this afternoon. I’m not hurt seriously, but I think a hot-water bath and bandage for this ankle will prevent further trouble.” “All right, Mother dear,” said Mary Frances, kissing her. “If it will make you happier, we’ll stay.” “I’d eat lunch right over there,” suggested Billy, pointing out a lovely green spot near a spring. “Trust Billy to think of pleasant ‘eats,’” laughed Mary Frances, as Eleanor and she picked up the lunch baskets, and Billy and his father started off with the mother comfortably seated on the “sedan chair” which they made with their hands. “We’ll wait for you, Billy,” called Eleanor. “Better not,” said Billy, “because I may be late—I may stay to dinner at home.” “We’ll wait a while, any how,” called Mary Frances. “Good-bye!” “Good-bye!” called everybody. * * * * * The girls felt quite lonely and sad as the other three disappeared from sight. “Oh, dear,” sobbed Mary Frances, “I just pretended to be cheerful because I knew how sorry mother was to disappoint us.” “My, but you were brave,” replied Eleanor. “Indeed, I felt just like crying, but when I saw how you were behaving, it made me feel ashamed.” “Well,” said Mary Frances, drying her eyes, “let’s set the table—Billy will be back sooner or later, and I don’t want him to see I’ve been crying!” So they spread their lunch cloth and paper plates. “If we only had some flowers for a centerpiece!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Let’s go gather some!” suggested Eleanor. “All right!” Mary Frances sprang up. “What can we put them in?” asked Eleanor practically. “Oh, I know!” cried Mary Frances running to one of the lunch baskets. “Let’s drink this milk, and use the bottle for a holder.” “Lovely!” said Eleanor. “My, I didn’t know I was hungry!”