idea," said Aunt Alice; "do you agree, Charlie?"
"Yes," said Mr. Elliott, "I'd like it of all things. Shall we go to Foster's Woods?"
"Yes," said Marian, "that's the nicest place for a picnic. There's a lovely lake there, Patty, and boats to row about in, and tables for the feast and everything."
"How many shall you invite?" said Uncle Charlie. "I'll engage stages to take us all over."
"I want to go," said Edith. "Mayn't I, mamma?"
"Of course you may," said Mrs. Elliott; "we'll take the whole family, from grandma down to little Gilbert."
"Oh, I can't go," said grandma; "I'm too old for picnics."
"Not a bit," said her son; "if you don't care for staging, I'll send you and Alice and the baby over in the carriage."
And then they all fell to planning the details of the picnic, and Patty secretly contrasted the occasion with similar ones at her other aunts'.
There was no quarreling about arrangements as at Villa Rosa; each deferred politely to the others' opinions, and yet each frankly expressed his or her mind on any subject.
And there was no inattention or forgetfulness as at the Hurly-Burly. Each was appointed to attend to several different things, and Patty felt sure that their promises would all be fulfilled.
"Let's have lots of sandwiches," said Frank; "the last picnic I went to, I didn't have half enough. And can't we have jam in some of them, as well as chicken and ham?"
"Certainly, my boy," said his mother; "I'll see that you have jam sandwiches and ham sandwiches and chicken sandwiches, and plenty of them."
"Those names might be shortened," said Uncle Charlie, meditatively. "The sand is superfluous, anyway. There's no sand in them. Why don't we say jamwiches, hamwiches and chickwiches?"
"Oh, that's much better," cried Marian. "I wonder we never thought of it before. I shall never mention a ham sandwich again. A hamwich is so much nicer."
"And then there are tonguewiches and eggwiches," said Patty, delighted with the new words.
"And jellywiches," said Aunt Alice, laughing. "And now what else do young people eat? Cakes and fruit, I suppose."
"Yes, and little tarts," said Frank; "they're awfully good on a picnic."
"And ice cream," said Marian.
"I'll order the ice cream," said her father, "and I'll bring a big box of candies from New York. Frank, you must see to the hammocks and swings, and games if you want them."
"Yes, sir," said Frank, "I'll take my shuffleboard and ring-toss. And we'll build a fire, and make coffee, shall we mother?"
"Yes, dear; Patty and I will make the coffee," said Aunt Alice with a sidelong smile at her niece.
"Then I know it will be good," said Frank.
Saturday was a beautiful day, clear and bright and not too warm.
Immediately after luncheon four stages went around and gathered up about fifty young people, and a wagon full of provisions for feasting and fun followed them to Foster's Woods.
Patty wore a pretty white frock, which, under Aunt Alice's instruction, she had neatly mended, and Mrs. Elliott's skilful laundress had made clean and crisp.
The Vernondale young people proved to be a merry, jolly crowd, and pretty Patty soon became a favorite.
Frank and Marian introduced her to everybody and took special care that she should never lack for companions or amusement.
And there was so much to do, and Patty enjoyed it all. She was clever at the games, and owing to her practice at the Hurly-Burly, she could row as well as any boy.
The lake was a beautiful bit of water, and in some parts of it pond-lilies grew in abundance.
The young people gathered a quantity of these, both white and pink, to decorate the supper-table.
Then when the feast was ready, Uncle Charlie called the children together, and they came with a will, for their afternoon out of doors had given them a good appetite for the hamwiches and jamwiches.
After supper was over, it was about seven o'clock, and Uncle Charlie told his young guests that they could ramble round for half an hour, and then they would start on their homeward ride.
The path by the side of the lake was a very pretty one, and Mrs. Elliott and her husband walked along there with little Gilbert between them. The child was getting sleepy and a little wilful; and while Jane, his nurse, was eating her supper, his parents had him in charge.
Soon they heard Frank's voice calling, "Father, won't you please come here a minute and help us get this swing down?"
Mr. Elliott went to help the boys, and Mrs. Elliott and Gilbert sat down on the grassy bank to await his return.
"Mamma," said the child, "shall I pick you some pretty flowers?"
"Yes, baby," said his mother, who was looking at the sunset, and only half listening, "but don't go far away."
"No," said the little fellow, and how it happened, Mrs. Elliott never knew, but seemingly in a moment, Gilbert had climbed into a boat and was afloat alone on the lake. For an instant Mrs. Elliott was too frightened even to scream; and then, she dared not, for the boat was a little, round-bottomed affair, and Gilbert was jumping about in it so excitedly, that if suddenly startled he might upset the boat.
With great presence of mind his mother spoke to him gently.
"Gilbert, dear," she said, "sit down in the middle of the boat, and be quiet until I call papa, will you? There's a good boy."
"I am a good boy," Gilbert called back; "I'm going to get mamma pretty pink pond-flowers."
The boat was drifting farther and farther out, and the child sitting in the bow, rocked it from one side to the other.
"Gilbert," said his mother, sternly, "sit right down in the bottom of the boat. Right in the middle, do you hear? Obey me at once!"
"Yes, mamma," said the boy, and he did as she told him to, but continued to rock the boat, so though the danger was lessened, it was still a frightful scene, and filled the poor mother's heart with terror.
"Charlie, Charlie," she called, and then "Frank," but they could not hear her as they were taking down some hammocks in another part of the grove.
The boat drifted nearer to the pond-lilies, and Mrs. Elliott saw Gilbert lean over the side of the boat.
"Now I'll get them for you, mamma," he called.
Mrs. Elliott could scarcely hear his words, but she saw,--the boat overturn and her darling child fall into the deep lake.
Chapter XX.
The Rescue
When Mrs. Elliott called to her husband and son, they could not hear her, but her cries were heard by a small group of half-a-dozen boys and girls, who were walking along the shore of the lake at some distance ahead of her.
Patty and Marian were in this group, and at the sound of her mother's frightened cry, Marian turned pale, and said, "Oh, Patty, something dreadful has happened; let us run to mother."
But one of the boys said, "Look out on the lake! There's your little brother in a boat, all alone."
"Oh," cried Marian, "he'll be upset! Where's papa? Can any of you boys swim?"
"No," said two of the boys, and another said, "I can't either, but I'm going to try."
"Don't do it," said Patty, who was already flinging off her shoes. "I can swim, and I'll