Miss Charity put a generously filled lunch basket in the cart just as it started, containing cold fried chicken, thick slices of homemade brown bread, still warm from the oven, red apples, crisp brown doughnuts, and a stone jug of sweet cider. Miss Charity was justly proud of her fame as a good cook and provider, and, knowing that Tommy and Erica had had very little pleasure that fall, she had taken particular pains to make the present party one to be remembered. The cavalcade of young people started out of town in high spirits, and headed for Surfside and Erica’s “Owls’ Country” by one of the sandy rut roads that wound across the commons. It is usually fairly mild on Nantucket until January, and on a sunny day the commons will be almost warm in the hollows around noon. That day was no exception to the general rule. The sun shone down in a hot blaze of gold, and though the wind, when it came, left a nip and tingle in its passing, down in a certain deep depression Erica and Tommy selected for their picnic site near the pine woods the party was quite protected from the blasts. The ground was carpeted to the depth of a foot or more with dried but still faintly colorful huckleberry vines, with here and there patches of sweet-fern, mealy plum, and soft clumps of the gray Iceland moss. An old blanket was spread out to serve as table and tablecloth in one, and the basket and stone jug were set in the place of honor in the center. The eight hungry girls and boys sat about the edge of the blanket, and Erica unpacked the basket. Everybody’s appetite had been sharpened to extra keenness by their morning in the crisp December air, and they speedily made ravenous inroads on the tempting fare Miss Charity had provided. But since the business of tree-choosing and chopping was still ahead of them, no one lingered longer than necessary over the meal. When everything had been neatly replaced in the basket, four shining, newly whetted axes were brought out of the hay on the floor of the cart, and, leaving old Polly to follow at her leisure, the boys and girls hurried on to the woods. Choosing just the right size and shape always took time; and this year there were not two Christmas trees to be selected, but three, since the young Joys also wanted one for their holiday celebration. The rest of the children were willing enough to lend a hand in the work of cutting down the trees and to offer unsought advice as to the relative merits and failures of the pines finally chosen. So it was not surprising that the business in hand took most of the short afternoon, and that the expedition should be overtaken by sunset and the soft, smoky purple twilight of early winter, before they had covered half the distance back to town.