Eliza was cross all day; but, as Dick said, the crosser she was, the better she cooked. At any rate, there was food enough next morning, and of the most delicious sort, to fill three large baskets; and only seven people were going.

There were tarts and turnovers, and crumpets and cake, and Washington-pie, not to mention cold corned beef and boiled ham.

“All that for seven mouths? Why, it will feed half the party!” exclaimed Nunky, as he helped Nanty pack it into the baskets.

“Wait till we come home, and see if we bring any thing back,” said she, finding room for two dozen boiled eggs in the corners, with a little paper bag of pepper and salt.

“What we don’t eat ourselves, we shall give to little Hop-clover and the other stray birds. Oh! there’s no danger of taking too much,” added Nanty, fastening down the covers.

She and Nunky were going, and were to take care of the children, while Judge Pitcher and his wife staid at home. “How dreary it would be in that great lonesome house all day, with no noise but the ticking of the clocks!” thought the little Pitchers, and wondered their parents could look so cheerful. For them this trip to the Lake of Lilies was the great event of the summer, and everybody who could not go was very much to be pitied.

When Posy was dressed all in white for the ride, she looked so beautiful, that the whole family had to kiss and keep kissing her, till Pollio was out of all patience; for he was in a hurry to get to the cars. He had been up ever since sunrise, and had filled every one of his pockets with peanuts to eat on the way in case of “hungriness.” Nanty had sternly declared the picnic-baskets should not be opened till dinner-time; and he did have a perfect horror of “hungriness.”

“Well, I believe, after all, I’ll go with you as far as the steamboat, if your mother doesn’t mind,” said Judge Pitcher, snatching up his hat at the last minute.

The cars were full. All the children in town seemed to be going; and, by the smiles on their faces, you would think they were all in love with the Lake of Lilies, and would rather see it than any other spot in the world.

Judge Pitcher took Posy on his knee; and a gentleman in the next seat touched him on the shoulder, and said,—

“Well, you must be a proud father to have such a lovely little girl as that!”

He was a perfect stranger; but he looked at Posy with a smile, of course, and offered her a rosebud. She blushed, and thanked him, and was going to give it to papa to keep for her; but papa pinned it into the bosom of her frock. He was proud: he did think his little girl and the pink rosebud looked very much alike,—both so sweet, so pure, so beautiful!

When they reached the steamboat, “The Lady of the Lake,” he went on board with the party, and said to the twins,—

“Now I leave you in charge of uncle Rufus and aunt Ann.”

“Just’s if I couldn’t take care o’ my little sister myself!” cried Pollio, quite offended.

“Well, see that you do it,” said papa, laughing.

“Won’t you please take care of me too?” asked Miss Croswell, their sabbath-school teacher.

Pollio saw at once that she was making sport of him: so he did not answer, but drew himself up like a little man, and threw one arm protectingly around his sister.

Then papa kissed all the children, and the twins twice over, saying to Posy,—

“Good-by, my own little rosebud.”

And, when he walked up the wharf, he carried a picture in his mind of a beautiful little girl with a pink rosebud on her bosom.

There was such a crowd on the boat, that uncle Rufus and aunt Ann watched the little ones every moment; while Edith took care of Teddy. None of the children knew they were watched, however: they thought they were all helping Dick look out for the baskets.

“Did you ever see a merrier party?” said Nanty to Nunky, as she held Posy’s hand, and looked round upon the bright little faces.

Hop-clover was there in a faded but clean calico frock, hugging a paper bag of crackers, which was all she could find for her dinner; but, if it had been roast turkey and plum-pudding, she could not have looked gayer.

“Nunky, please let go my hand,” said Pollio. “I want to show Posy how the paddles work.”

“Do you think I’ll let you both pitch overboard?” said Nunky, grasping the little general’s hand the closer.

But he led him along to the side of the boat, while Nanty and the rest followed.

“Now you may show Posy how the paddles work,” said he. “Dick, perch her up on the railing, while I attend to Pollio.”

Pollio looked rather sulky. It was strange that people thought he ought to be “attended to,” when he felt quite able to take care of the whole party.

“The Lady of the Lake” was a fast-sailing steamer, and moved with proud grace, as if alive, and pleased to hear the children praising her.

“See what waves of light we leave behind us!” said Nunky, pointing to the stern of the boat, where the pale-green water was churned into foam.

“Oh, how beautiful! It looks like roses and diamonds and gold rings, and—and every thing!” cried Posy, watching the many-colored bubbles that shone in the sun as if a million jewels were broken up, and dancing in the water.

The boat landed at last at the town of Gray; and the party of children formed a line, and marched to Aspen Grove, where dinner was to be served. It had been very bright all the morning: but, by the time they reached the grove, the sun wrapped himself in a cloud, like an invalid in a great-coat; and it seemed so much like rain, that the teachers thought best to dine in the Town Hall.

What a blow to the children! They had seen the grove, and it was beautiful. There were swings dangling from the trees; there were croquet-sets lying about in boxes ready to be put up; but the most welcome sight of all was the row of long wooden tables where the food was to have been placed. Must they leave all this, and be shut up in the house?

“Humph! T’won’t rain, you see’f it does! my papa didn’t say nuffin’ ’bout it,” sniffed Pollio, as they turned, and formed a line again to march to the hall.

They had no sooner entered than it began to pour. There were no tables in the hall; and the teachers said each family might eat in a seat by itself, and call it a “basket picnic.”

Nobody liked this; but perhaps there was not a child present so disappointed as little Hop-clover. She did not suppose any one knew what she carried in her paper bag; and she had meant to set the bag on the table beside the baskets, where it would not be noticed. But now she must eat with several other children, beside Miss Ware her teacher, who was a fine lady in a beautiful silk dress and lace shawl. She had eaten very little breakfast, but she would almost rather starve than open that paper bag.

“Why don’t you eat, Cindy?” asked the little girl at her left, with a bit of nice cake in her mouth.

“I guess my head aches some,” replied Hop-clover; and it did really ache, and her heart too.

Aunt Ann, who was three seats behind Hop-clover, happened to look up just as she was passing the boiled eggs, and saw that hungry, friendless look on the poor lame girl’s face.

“Why, how I’ve been neglecting that child!” said she. “Make room for her, Dick and Edy, and I’ll go bring her into our seat.”

So she went and brought her, and Hop-clover’s headache went off in a twinkling; though I fancy it wasn’t Nanty’s gold smelling-bottle that cured it, so much as the cream-biscuits, cold meat, and crumpets.

“Oh, I wish she was my auntie!” thought little Hop-clover, gazing at pretty Miss Ann wistfully.

Posy, thinking she looked sober about something, crept closer to her, and laid her cheek against her hand.

“Isn’t every thing so nice?” said she. It was all she could think of to say; but she wanted Hop-clover to know she liked her in their seat, eating with them.

Before dinner was over, the sun had thrown off his great-coat of clouds; and the children were soon rushing out of the house, gayer than ever. There were running and laughing, and playing and singing. It was a day of almost perfect delight; and, when “The Lady of the Lake” whistled to call them back, nobody was ready to go except the grown people.

“I shall be thankful if we once get these children home,” remarked Nanty aside to Nunky, after they were all on board. “I’m so afraid somebody will fall into the water!”

Alas! there was a far greater danger; though nobody thought of it, not even the man who was putting coal under the boiler. This man was proud of “The Lady of the Lake,” and wanted her to skim over the water as fast as possible: so perhaps he made too much fire; and perhaps, too, there was a crack in the red-hot iron. I don’t quite know what was the trouble; but something terrible happened,—the boiler blew up.

I shall not describe the scene on the boat; for, even if I knew how to do it, it is too dreadful to write or even think about.

That night there were terror and distress throughout the whole town of Rosewood. Everybody knew that “The Lady of the Lake” had met with an awful accident, and that some of the children who had gone on the excursion would not come home alive, while many others were fearfully hurt.

Judge Pitcher and his wife did not know of it for some hours. While out riding, they were stopped on the street by “the little woman,” who exclaimed with a white face,—

“A despatch from Muldoon! ‘The Lady of the Lake’ blown to pieces!”

The judge did not wait for another word, but drove furiously to the telegraph-office. There he learned that the cars were to arrive half an hour later than usual, bringing the dead and wounded.

“Let us hurry home. Let us be ready,” whispered Mrs. Pitcher.

There was not the least color in her face, but her husband knew she would not faint. A mother has no time to faint when she is waiting to hear whether her children are alive or dead.

I don’t know why; but the judge was thinking of Posy, and fancying, if any of his children were lost, it would be this darling of the family.

He was right. All the rest were safe; but dear little Posy was brought home on cushions, her sweet eyes closed, and their golden fringe quite still against the white cheeks. The faded rosebud on her bosom did not stir: her heart had ceased beating.

It was the loveliest, sweetest, saddest sight. Papa wept, and wrung his hands; but there were no tears in mamma’s eyes as she knelt beside her darling.

“O God! she isn’t dead yet; don’t let her die! She isn’t dead yet; don’t let her die!”

That was what mamma said again and again, with her hand upon Posy’s heart.

“Lemme kiss her! She’s my twin-sister,” cried frantic Pollio, springing away from Nanty, who tried to hold him. “I shall die if you don’t lemme kiss her.”

“Hush!” whispered his mother, with a wonderful light in her eyes, “her heart flutters! Go away, everybody: leave her to papa and me.”

That was the end of sorrow, the beginning of joy. Posy opened her beautiful eyes: God let her live, and not die.

It was a happy, happy house; but was any one happier than Pollio when they brought him in, and told him he might kiss her on her white lips?

“I tried to take care of her,” sobbed the brave boy; “but the boat went and busted right up, and I couldn’t help it.”

“To be sure you couldn’t, my little man: we all know you did your best,” replied papa, not laughing at all.

Then he picked up something from the floor, and gave it to his wife, saying,—

“Let us always keep this precious token.”

It was Posy’s rosebud.

They did not know till next day that Hop-clover had been in the kitchen all the while, waiting for news from Posy.

“The child has a feeling heart,” said Jane Roarty; “and so you’d ha’ thought, Miss Pitcher, if you’d seen her cry in my arms last night.”