Not out of the world, our Father, Until we have fought a good fight,-- Until to the last we have guarded The lamp of Thy Faith burning bright; Until the long course is well finished, Until the hard race has been won, And we hear, as we rest from our labors, Well done, faithful servant, well done." CHAPTER VII. THE PICNIC. "Monday morning, bright and early, what shall we do to-day?" chanted Gem, as she entered the dining-room. "Yes; what shall we do?" repeated Tom; "something out of the common run, of course, for it's vacation, and besides, it will be so hot pretty soon that _we can't_ do anything,--and Hugh's going to New York in the fall,--and Sibyl's going to Saratoga before long, and when _I_ enter college, of course I shan't care about such things any more; so I've got to hurry up." "Bravo, Tom! you've made out a strong case!" said Hugh, laughing, "Aunt Faith cannot resist such a mountain of arguments!" "I do not intend to resist anything reasonable," said Aunt Faith, smiling; "what do you wish to do, Tom?" "Tableaux!" said Gem, excitedly. "No; I veto that instanter," said Tom, decidedly. "Girls always want to dress up in old feathers and things, and call themselves kings and queens! For my part, I'm tired of being 'Captain John Smith,' and the 'Sleeping Beauty in the Wood.'" "May I ask when you took the last-named character?" said Hugh. "He never took it at all," said Gem, indignantly; "Annie Chase was the Princess, and she looked perfectly beautiful with her sister's satin dress, and pearls, and--" "There you go!" interrupted Tom; "fuss and feathers, silks and satins! I was the 'Prince,' wasn't I? and that's the very same thing! Besides, I've been 'Cupid' over and over again, because I'm the only one who can hang head downward from the clothes-line as though I was flying. You can't deny that, Gem Morris!" "You got up one tableau which was really astonishing," said Hugh; "I remember it very well; an inundation, where all the company in clothes-baskets, were paddling with rulers for their very lives. The effect was thrilling!" "I remember a charade, too, which was really unique," said Sibyl. "The first part was simply little Carrie Fish standing in the middle of the room; the second and last was audible, but not visible, consisting merely of a volley of sneezes behind the scenes. The whole was supposed to be 'Carry-ca-choo,'--or 'Caricature.'" "It may all be very funny for you people who only have to look on," said Tom; "but _I_ am tired of the whole thing, and I vote for a picnic." "Oh, Tom!" said Sibyl in dismay, "if tableaux are old, picnics are worn threadbare!" "I have not had _my_ share in wearing them, then!" said Tom; "I never went to but one picnic in my life, and then I fell in the river, and had to come home before dinner."