The ladies were very busy. They were going to make a fire, and such a fire! They were going to make coffee, and such coffee. The supper was to be altogether unparalleled in picnic annals, and it was to be prepared by feminine hands alone. "See how glorious it burns!" exclaimed Rose, as the first flame shot up from the pile of sticks. "See how gloriously it smokes!" said Hugh, as the fickle blaze vanished, and Rose inhaled a puff of the stinging smoke. "I can make it burn!" said Bessie, coming to the rescue with fresh newspapers. A match,--another blaze,--another cry of exultation,--another failure, and a red burn on Bessie's hand to mark it. "Let me try," said Edith Chase, kneeling gracefully beside the obstinate pile. More newspapers, more flames, more smoke, ending in another failure, and a grimy mark on Miss Chase's delicate dress. "Oh ye strong-minded!" said Hugh, jumping up, and lifting the pile of sticks; "don't you know that you cannot start a fire in the sunshine? Down under this stump, now, it will burn like a _furnace_." So saying, Hugh rearranged the fuel, while Rose coughed, Edith furtively rubbed her dress, and Bessie bound up her burned hand in her handkerchief. At this moment Sibyl came into view, carrying a pail of water. Mr. Leslie got up and took the pail out of her hand in spite of her objections. "It is too heavy for you," he said decidedly; "don't attempt anything of the kind again, I beg." "The kettle must be hung up," said Lida Powers, coming forward with a tea-kettle in her hand. Will Mount and Walter Hart understood this duty, while Gideon Fish and Mr. Gay laid the cloth, the former eyeing the cake with pleasant anticipation. "It seems to me, young ladies, that the gentlemen are doing the work after all," said Aunt Faith. "Of course, aunt," said Hugh, blowing his fire with a scarlet face: "did I not predict we should have to work like slaves." "The meat! The meat! Turk has got the meat!" cried Gem from a neighboring rock, where she and Annie where making wreaths of wild flowers. There was a general exclamation of dismay as the curly back of the old depredator was seen through the trees making off with the booty. "How did Turk get here?" asked Aunt Faith; "Tom, I suspect you are the culprit!" "Well, aunt, I just thought I'd let him come out with Jones and the cart; they might be of use, you know, in case of tramps or gipsies." "They! You do not mean to say all the dogs are here?" But doubt was soon dispelled by the appearance of Pete Trone in person, attracted by the provisions spread out upon the ground. Too well-bred to snatch,--for, as Tom said, "Pete was a truly gentlemanly dog,"--Pete sat upon his hind legs with fore paws drooping on his breast, eying the company gravely as if to call attention to his polite demeanor. "He certainly is a funny little fellow," said Rose Saxon, as Hugh gave the terrier a fragment of cake. "He is the wisest dog I ever saw," said Hugh.