An Eventful Picnic

It was summer and it was June. There was to be a picnic, and Elizabeth was
going.

Grandmother Brady had managed it. It seemed to her that, if Elizabeth
could go, her cup of pride would be full to overflowing; so after much
argument, pro and con, with her daughter and Lizzie, she set herself down
to pen the invitation. Aunt Nan was decidedly against it. She did not wish
to have Lizzie outshone. She had been working nights for two weeks on an
elaborate organdie, with pink roses all over it, for Lizzie to wear. It
had yards and yards of cheap lace and insertion, and a whole bolt of pink
ribbons of various widths. The hat was a marvel of impossible roses, just
calculated for the worst kind of a wreck if a thunder-shower should come
up at a Sunday-school picnic. Lizzie's mother was even thinking of getting
her a pink chiffon parasol to carry; but the family treasury was well-nigh
depleted, and it was doubtful whether that would be possible. After all
that, it did not seem pleasant to have Lizzie put in the shade by a
fine-lady cousin in silks and jewels.

But Grandmother Brady had waited long for her triumph. She desired above
all things to walk among her friends, and introduce her granddaughter,
Elizabeth Bailey, and inadvertently remark: "You must have seen me
granddaughter's name in the paper often, Mrs. Babcock. She was giving a
party in Rittenhouse Square the other day."

Elizabeth would likely be married soon, and perhaps go off somewhere away
from Philadelphia--New York or Europe, there was no telling what great
fortune might come to her. Now the time was ripe for triumph if ever, and
when things are ripe they must be picked. Mrs. Brady proceeded to pick.