“Let’s throw pebbles and wake him up,” said Molly.

“No,” said Kitty, “it’s too bad to wake him up early, because he needs his rest.  He has to work hard all day, and he has the rheumatism besides.  But I’ll tell you what,” and again Kitty’s face glowed with a great idea; “let’s go and throw pebbles at King’s window, and make him take us out rowing.”

“Kitty, getting up early in the morning agrees with your brain!” declared Marjorie.  “We’ll do just that,—­and while King is dressing, we’ll pack a basket of things to eat.  Oh, gorgeous!  Come on, girls!”

And clasping hands, the three ran away toward Grandma Sherwood’s house.

“What about Stella?” asked Marjorie, as they passed her house.

“Oh, don’t try to get her,” said Molly; “she’d be scared to death if you pebbled her, and her mother and father would think the house was on fire or something.”

So Stella was not included in the picnic, and the three conspirators ran on, and never paused until they were beneath King’s window.

“You don’t need a whole handful for him,” advised Kitty.  “I expect he’s awake, anyway, and one pebble will make him come to the window.  See, the window’s open anyway; we can just fling a pebble in.”

“If we can aim straight enough,” said Molly.

After one or two vain attempts, Kitty sent a good-sized pebble straight through the open window, and it landed on the floor straight beside King’s bed.

In another moment a tousled head and a pair of shoulders, humped into a bathrobe, appeared at the window.

Seeing the girls, King’s face broke into a broad grin.  “Well, you do beat all!” he cried.  “Have you been out all night?”

“No,” called Kitty, “we’re just playing around in the morning.  It’s perfectly lovely out, King, and we’re going to have a picnic, rowing on the river.  But we can’t go unless you’ll come too, so bob into your clothes and come, won’t you?”

“You bet I will!  Isn’t anybody up?”

“Nobody but us,” said Marjorie; “so don’t make any noise.  Slide down the back stairs and through the kitchen.”

“Got any feed for your picnic?”

“We’re going to get some.  You hurry down and we’ll be ready.”

“All right,” and the tousled head disappeared.  The girls went noiselessly into the kitchen and on through into the pantry.  As Marjorie had surmised, the pantry shelves were well-stocked, and they found doughnuts, little pies, and cold chicken in abundance.  Kitty found a goodly-sized basket, and remembering King’s appetite, they packed it well.

“Here’s some hard-boiled eggs,” cried Marjorie, “let’s take these.”

“I ’spect Eliza wants them for salad or something,” said Kitty, “but she can boil more.  We must take some milk, Midget.”

“Yes, here’s a big pitcher full.  Let’s put it in a tin pail to carry it.  The milkman will be here in time for breakfast.”