[Illustration:  They were all in fine haying trim.]

“I hope she won’t discover anything before we get away,” Old Tilly said.  “It would be such fun to have it a reg’lar surprise!”

“Wouldn’t it!” cried Jot.

“But she might think somebody’d come along in the night and stole it, don’t you see?” Kent objected.

“No, sir, I don’t see.  I guess she’d see our trail.  And besides, look up there in the mow!  It doesn’t look just exactly as it did before we began!”

A few minutes after the boys had glided away on their wheels, the little old lady hurried into “pa’s” room.

“Pa, pa, it’s all in, jest as nice as a new pin!  Every spear’s in!” she cried delightedly.  “Them three boys did it before breakfast.  I knew what they was up to, but I wasn’t goin’ to spoil their little surprise!  I guess I know how boys like surprises.  Don’t you remember how Hilary an’ Eben got the potatoes all dug that time an’ surprised you?  How innocent their little faces looked when you said, ’Hum-suz-a-day! how it makes my back ache thinkin’ o’ those potatoes!’ Joey was a tittle thing in kilts, but he helped.  He tugged ’em in, in his own little basket—­I can see jest how proud he looked!  But I evened up a little on the surprise.  I guess when they come to open them bicycle baskets they’ll see some things in the way of apple-pie that was not there earlier!”

All the morning the boys wondered at the stream of wagons traveling their way.  Then just at noon they found out what it meant.  They came round a sharp curve in the road upon a beautiful grove on the shore of a lake.  It was gay with flags and the bright dresses of women and children.  Here and there an awning or tent dotted the green spaces.  People were bustling about in all directions, laughing and shouting to each other, and every few minutes there were new arrivals.

“Hark! there’s a band o’ music!  It’s a circus!” cried Kent, excitedly.  Jot had disappeared somewhere in the crowd.

“No-o, not a circus,” Old Tilly said doubtfully.  “It’s some kind of a big picnic.  See, there’s a kind of a track laid out over there where that flag is.  They’re going to have some kind of athletics.”

“Foot-races and hurdles and things!  Oh, I say, can’t we stay and see ’em?” Kent cried eagerly.

At that instant appeared Jot, waving his cap in great excitement.

“Come on—­we’re invited!” he shouted.  “There’s going to be lots of fun, I tell you!  We can buy ice-cream, too, over in that striped tent, and there are boats we can hire to row out in, and—­everything.”

“Hold on a minute!” demanded Old Tilly with the sternness of authority.  “How did you get your invitation? and what is it that’s going on, anyway?”

“Tell quick, Jot—­hurry!  They’re getting ready for a foot-race,” fidgeted Kent.

“It’s a Grangers’ picnic, that’s what.  And a big jolly Granger invited us to stop to it.  He asked if we weren’t farmer boys, and said he thought so by our cut when I said, yes sir-ee.  He wants us to stop.  He said so.  He says his folks have got bushels of truck for dinner, and we can join in with them and welcome.”