It was such a lovely day, they all felt its cheerful influence; for the sun shone bright and warm, the air was full of an invigorating freshness which soon made the girls’ faces look like rosy apples, and their spirits as gay as if they had been stealing sips of new cider through a straw.  Jack whistled like a blackbird as he swung and bumped about, Frank orated and joked, Merry and Molly ran races to see who would fill and empty fastest, and Jill sung to Boo, who reposed in a barrel, exhausted with his labors.

“These are the last of the pleasant days, and we ought to make the most of them.  Let’s have one more picnic before the frost spoils the leaves,” said Merry, resting a minute at the gate to look down the street, which was a glorified sort of avenue, with brilliant maples lining the way and carpeting the ground with crimson and gold.

“Oh, yes!  Go down the river once more and have supper on the Island.  I couldn’t go to some of your picnics, and I do long for a last good time before winter shuts me up again,” cried Jill, eager to harvest all the sunshine she could, for she was not yet quite her old self again.

“I’m your man, if the other fellows agree.  We can’t barrel these up for a while, so to-morrow will be a holiday for us.  Better make sure of the day while you can, this weather can’t last long;” and Frank shook his head like one on intimate terms with Old Prob.

“Don’t worry about those high ones, Jack.  Give a shake and come down and plan about the party,” called Molly, throwing up a big Baldwin with what seemed a remarkably good aim, for a shower of apples followed, and a boy came tumbling earthward to catch on the lowest bough and swing down like a caterpillar, exclaiming, as he landed,—­

“I’m glad that job is done!  I’ve rasped every knuckle I’ve got and worn out the knees of my pants.  Nice little crop though, isn’t it?”

“It will be nicer if this young man does not bite every apple he touches.  Hi there!  Stop it, Boo,” commanded Frank, as he caught his young assistant putting his small teeth into the best ones, to see if they were sweet or sour.

Molly set the barrel up on end, and that took the boy out of the reach of mischief, so he retired from view and peeped through a crack as he ate his fifth pearmain, regardless of consequences.

“Gus will be at home to-morrow.  He always comes up early on Saturday, you know.  We can’t get on without him,” said Frank, who missed his mate very much, for Gus had entered college, and so far did not like it as much as he had expected.

“Or Ralph; he is very busy every spare minute on the little boy’s bust, which is getting on nicely, he says; but he will be able to come home in time for supper, I think,” added Merry, remembering the absent, as usual.

“I’ll ask the girls on my way home, and all meet at two o’clock for a good row while it’s warm.  What shall I bring?” asked Molly, wondering if Miss Bat’s amiability would extend to making goodies in the midst of her usual Saturday’s baking.