time.  Lizzie has a new pink organdie, with roses on her hat; and we’re thinking of getting her a pink umbreller if it don’t cost too much.  The kind with chiffon flounces on it.  You’ll have a good time, fer there’s lots of side-shows out to Willow Grove, and we’re going to see everything there is to see.  There’s going to be some music too.  A man with a name that sounds like swearing is going to make it.  I don’t remember it just now, but you can see it advertised round on the trolley-cars.  He comes to Willow Grove every year.  Now please let me hear if you will go at once, as I want to know how much cake to make.

                         “Your loving grandmother,
                                        ELIZABETH BRADY.”

Elizabeth laughed and cried over this note.  It pleased her to have her grandmother show kindness to her.  She felt that whatever she did for Grandmother Brady was in a sense showing her love to her own mother; so she brushed aside several engagements, much to the annoyance of her Grandmother Bailey, who could not understand why she wanted to go down to Flora Street for two days and a night just in the beginning of warm weather.  True, there was not much going on just now between seasons, and Elizabeth could do as she pleased; but she might get a fever in such a crowded neighborhood.  It wasn’t in the least wise.  However, if she must, she must.  Grandmother Bailey was on the whole lenient.  Elizabeth was too much of a success, and too willing to please her in all things, for her to care to cross her wishes.  So Elizabeth wrote on her fine note-paper bearing the Bailey crest in silver: 

"Dear Grandmother: I shall be delighted to go to the picnic with you, and I’ll bring a nice big box of candy, Huyler’s best.  I’m sure you’ll think it’s the best you ever tasted.  Don’t get Lizzie a parasol; I’m going to bring her one to surprise her.  I’ll be at the house by eight o’clock.

“Your loving granddaughter,
ELIZABETH.”

Mrs. Brady read this note with satisfaction and handed it over to her daughter to read with a gleam of triumph in her eyes at the supper-table.  She knew the gift of the pink parasol would go far toward reconciling Aunt Nan to the addition to their party.  Elizabeth never did things by halves, and the parasol would be all that could possibly be desired without straining the family pocketbook any further.

So Elizabeth went to the picnic in a cool white dimity, plainly made, with tiny frills of itself, edged with narrow lace that did not shout to the unknowing multitude, “I am real!” but was content with being so; and with a white Panama hat adorned with only a white silken scarf, but whose texture was possible only at a fabulous price.  The shape reminded Elizabeth of the old felt hat belonging to her brother, which she had worn on her long trip across the continent.  She had put it on in the hat-store one day; and her grandmother, when she found how exquisite a piece of weaving the hat was, at once purchased it for her.  It was stylish to wear those soft hats in all sorts of odd shapes.  Madam Bailey thought it would be just the thing for the seashore.