As usual on such occasions, Delia shortly found herself, basket in hand, making her way along the dusty High Street to Mrs Hurst's house. Dornton and the Dornton people seemed to her at that moment almost unbearable. Should she ever get away from them? she wondered. Would her life be spent within the hearing of Mrs Winn's sententious remarks, the tedious discussions of tiny details, the eternal chatter and gossip, which still seemed to buzz in her ears, from the meeting that afternoon? Then her thoughts turned to their usual refuge, the Professor, and she began to plan a visit to Anna at Waverley. Since her last talk with him, she had made up her mind that she would do her very utmost to renew their old friendliness. She would not take offence so easily, or be so quick to resent it, when Anna did not see things as she did. She would be patient, and she would keep her promise to the Professor. She would try to understand. For his sake she would humble herself to make the first advance, and this, for Delia's somewhat stubborn spirit, was a greater effort than might be supposed. Anna, meanwhile, was quite as much interested as the Dornton people about the picnic which the Palmers intended to give. All country pleasures were new to her, and her companions at Pynes were _very_ much amused to hear that she had never been to a picnic in her life, and had most confused ideas as to what it meant. "It will be a very large one," said Isabel Palmer to her one morning. "Mother thinks it will be such a good way of entertaining the Dornton people. We thought of a garden-party, but if it's fine a picnic will be much more fun." The three girls were alone in the schoolroom, their lessons just over, and Anna was lingering for a chat before going back to Waverley. "Have you settled on the place yet?" she asked. "Alderbury," replied Isabel, "because it's near, and there's a jolly little wood to make the fire in." "How delightful it will be!" exclaimed Anna. "How I wish it was going to be to-morrow, I'm so afraid something will prevent it." "Bother this list!" put in Clara's voice, from the table where she sat writing; "you might help me, Isabel." "What do you want?" asked her sister. "Well--Mr Goodwin, for instance--am I to put him down?" Anna gave a little start, and gazed earnestly out of the window at which she stood, as Isabel went up to the table and looked over Clara's shoulder. Then they did not know! Aunt Sarah had not told them. How strange it seemed! "W-well, I don't know," said Isabel, reflectively. "We never have asked him to anything; but a picnic's different. He's a very nice old man, isn't he?" "He's an old dear," replied her sister, heartily, "but he's an organist. We shouldn't ask the organist of the church here." "Mr Goodwin's different, somehow," said Isabel; "he's so clever, and then he's a great friend of the Hunts, you know, and, of course, we shall ask them." "Well, what am I to do?" repeated Clara.