Kristy's Rainy Day Picnic

and sew, I always managed to get out of it, and she was too weak to insist. So when I went to my grandmother's

look of surprise in her face, I haste

?" she asked, in

n," I faltered. "I

how to sew! At your age, your Aunt Emily was almost an expert needlewoman; she could do overhand, hemmi

rn all these mysteries of the

nning then; I'll prepare

ve me do, and I hated it. I remember now some mussed up, dirty-l

d new white cotton cloth, which she cut into neat blocks about four inches square, and piled up on the table, the w

sed to call it. I thought there was enough for a quilt. Should I have to sew it all? I was in despair. But my grandmother was much pleased with the show. "There!" she said, "when you finish those, I s

e. I thought only of the weary, weary

lt under her eye. I must have a regular "stint," she said, and it was to be-at first-one of those dreadful blocks, at lea

to pick out and do over, of the many times I had to go and wash my hands because

hat so much reading was not good for me, and I must have some knitting. So she had some red yarn bought, and some steel needles, and "set up" a stocking big enough for my little brother, chee

ow I used to break my needles and lose my spool of thread, and ravel my knitting to make a diversion in the dreary round, forgetting

ee to a plan proposed by a schoolmate-to run away. She too had troubles at home; her mother

not quite so silly as to think of a serious runaway, but we wanted to get rid of our tasks for one day at least; and be

ternoon was over our feelings changed, and we began to feel very wicked, and to dread going home. I thought of my grandmother's sharp eyes fixed on me, and dreaded what puni

s taking home for the study-hour in the morning. I had laid them down on a log and was

e heard some great animal rustling among the bushes and were sure it was a bear. We turned and fled, running as hard as we could, looking fearfully b

hot hands, we threw them away, and not till it began to g

t was quite dark, two very tired, shamefaced girls, with torn dresses and gene

her the moment I stepped into the kitchen. I had tried to slip in and go to my room to wash and brus

into the sitting-room, where the family were gathered,-my uncle who lived wi

dle of the room, while all eyes

er most severe voice, "there's the

hat did I do it for? what did I think I deserved? and various other questions. Before long, I was w

le punishment for a naughty girl will be to go to bed without her supper." Th

made me very hungry, so that the punishment-though very m

th hunger. All was still in the house, and I knew the family must have gone to bed. A

y opened the door-my room was off the kitchen. The last flickering rema

well trained, and I found nothing; the cookie jar, too, was empty, for tomorrow was baking-day. I was

uld draw a pan down enough to drink a little from it, and not disturb

as I got the pan over the edge the milk swayed towards me, the pan escaped from my han

covered my head with the bedclothes, and lay there panting.

ened?" and my uncle's answer,

my room. In a minute it was opened by my grandmother, who drew me ou

e than I could guess, and to my uncle's "Why did you do it, child?"

hen left me standing on the warm hearth, sobbing violently, and

ard or guessed that he said my sentence had been too severe, and I was not so much to blame for trying to get a simple drink of milk, for when my gra

maid was called up, and I heard her scrubbing the floor and r

shoes and took the new schoolbooks was punishment enough. I tried harder after that to please my gr

"you didn't have much fun, did you? I can just fancy h

ld aunt she had, whom she and her two cousins used to go to see very often. She wanted me to go with her