The strawberry-pickers had soon begun their search.  Fred, who preferred rowing to strawberry-picking, undertook to take charge of Harry, who was as eager for the water as a young duck; while Mrs. Steele, taking out her knitting, sat down beside the baskets under a spreading oak, on a knoll overlooking the river, to wait until there should be a demand for tea.

Very quickly the time sped away, while the children pursued their busy but not laborious quest of the tempting berries, half hidden under their spreading leaves; and many an exclamation, half of annoyance, half of amusement, was uttered as one of them made a dart at a bright spot of crimson, fancying it a rich cluster of berries, and finding only a leaf.

“Why in the world do strawberries have red leaves, I wonder!” exclaimed Harry, who, tired at last of boating, was pretending to help them, though they all declared he ate as many as he picked.

“To inure you to the disappointments of life,” responded Alick oracularly.  “You’ll find, as you go along, there are more red strawberry leaves than berries all through.”

And Alick half sighed, as if he had already learned the lesson by experience.

“There’s one thing, Alick, of which that remark doesn’t hold good,” remarked Fred to his cousin in an undertone.  “My father says that sheet-anchor will bear us up through all the disappointments of life; and I believe it.”

“Well, very likely you’re right,—­well for those who can feel it so.  But at present I can’t say I belong to that happy number.  Some time or other, perhaps.  You know my head has been full of all sorts of ologies except theology for a good while back.”

“The ‘more convenient season,’ Alick,” replied Fred, with a half smile.

“Here, a truce to moralizing.  Who’s got the most strawberries?  The premium is to be the finest bunch in the collection,” shouted Alick.

And after the prize had been with much ceremony and mirth adjudged to Bessie Ford, it was time to think about tea.

“Come,” said Alick, “shoulder arms, that is, baskets, and march!”

All were very ready to obey Alick’s word of command, and the merry party were soon collected around the snowy tablecloth spread on the turf, on which Mrs. Steele had arranged the tempting repast of pies and cakes, curds and cream, to which a fine large dish of strawberries—­a contribution from the farm—­formed a tempting addition.

Fred, at his aunt’s request, asked a blessing, and then the good things were welcomed by the appetites sharpened by fresh air and exercise; and the feast was enlivened by the innocent glee and frolic which usually enliven such simple country parties, unfettered by form, and unsophisticated by any of the complications which creep into more elaborate picnics.  Even Stella, though she felt the whole affair—­especially the presence of the farmer’s children—­rather below her dignity as an embryo city belle, gave herself