In the morning, the Winthrop household was boiling and bubbling in the excitement and heat of preparation.
"Dian," said the distracted Rachel, "you go out to the wagon and get the Bishop to put in all those things that I have laid at the side of the appletree."
Out in the back yard could be heard the frequent small explosions that preceded such scenes in the Winthrop household.
"What's all this trash, Diantha? Does Rachel think we are going to cross the plains again? She's got enough stuff here to feed an army and to house a regiment," this as the Bishop selected various of the bundles and bales sent for the wagon's supply. "Who on earth but Rachel would ever think of carting a heavy wooden tub, flat irons and popcorn up Big Cottonwood? Popcorn on a picnic! And she's actually got a feather bed in this pile! Humph!" and the snort of disgust ended only as he tossed the bed back into the crotch of the young apple tree.
"Now, Appleton, that bed must go, so just do be good and let's not waste time this way. Here; it can go right on top of the boxes and we'll have it handy for the children to sit on," Dian worked as she talked, for she knew how little value to attach to the warmth of her brother on such occasions. "Here, Harvey, pack that shovel into the crevice there, will you?"
"Shovels on a picnic! Does she think we are going to locate mines? And rakes! My soul, but we will never get up the canyon with this load. You'll all have to walk, I'll tell you that."
"All but the baby and Rachel, Appleton. I am going to ride in John Stevens' wagon, with Aunt Clara and Ellie Tyler."
"Is that so, Dian? Well, that's fine." And in the pleasure of this announcement, the Bishop stowed away most of the things awaiting their turn on the grass.
"Salt! Why, Dian, there's twenty pounds of salt in this sack," and the Bishop fairly shouted in astonishment. "Salt by the bushel! Does Rachel imagine we are going out to pickle meat? There's salt enough for three thousand people, to last them a week."
"Exactly, Appleton; you know well enough that other people forget things, and Rachel has to be general commissary for the crowd," calmly replied her unmoved defender.
"Upon my word! Do you mean that I am to be made a general pack-horse to carry all the forgotten things for other people?"
"Appleton," this was said skilfully, and by way of diversion, "are we to have a dancing pavilion up there?"
"Two of them, Dian. And I don't want you sky-larking off with all the young men in the company, if you are to go with John Stevens. You won't get another chance like John, let me tell you. A member of the legislature, a man without fault or blemish, and as good as God ever made a man."
"There's the rub, brother. I'm not good enough for such a paragon. And I don't like paragons."
"You're an obstinate girl, Diantha."
The girl laughed merrily, now that she had diverted the attention of her irascible brother to herself, for he had packed away even the despised salt, and was putting in the tent poles and tents on top of the other bulky but light loading, while they were talking.
"Come, Rachel, we're all done. What are you laughing about?" sang out the Bishop. "Are you ready to start?"
His wife emerged from the house, all smiles, and with a cup of cool buttermilk to refresh the weary husband, who had dealt so generously with her packing arrangements.
"Thank you, Dian," she said softly, as the girl hurried into the house to complete her own preparations.
It was in the early afternoon of that day, when a double team – the wagon fitted with bows, but the cover folded in the bottom of the wagon box – drew up to the Winthrop house with great dash and clatter. Four good spring seats rattled emptily as the driver threw on his brake and gave a loud "Hello" to the people inside.
The front door opened and Bishop Winthrop came out.
"Dian will be ready in a moment, John. I am glad she is going with you, for I know you'll take good care of her."
"Just as good as she'll let me," the young man smiled down at his friend.
"Oh, Dianthy's all right, only she's a little high-spirited. Give her plenty of time, John; you can afford to wait," said the elder man, in confidential tones.
At that moment Diantha herself came out with her two nieces, and looking at the empty seats, she asked, "Where's Ellen Tyler going to ride? I'll sit with her."
"All right," answered the young man calmly "Only you'll have to sit three in a seat, as Charlie Rose put that middle seat in for himself and Ellen."
John sat patiently waiting for the girl to make up her mind, and not offering to assist her in. Perhaps his horses were fractious. At any rate, he sat watching them, now and then flicking a fly from them, apparently indifferent as to the result of the girl's decision.
"I suppose I shall have to ride in front, then," Dian murmured, and began climbing over the wheel, "although I like to be invited to sit by young men."
"You may sit on the back seat if you want to, and let either Aunt Clara or Tom Allen or either of the two little girls, Lucy or Josephine, sit here," said John, as he smiled down into her averted face, his gray eyes flashing with suppressed amusement.
"No, thank you. I've had trouble enough to get where I am, without any help; I don't care to climb any more. Get in, girls," she added.
"Where are you going now, John?" asked Diantha, as they drove off at last.
"For the rest of the folks," and away they clattered and rattled, the horses requiring careful handling, they were so full of eager life.
John drove rapidly to the home of Aunt Clara Tyler, where he was to find the others of his party.
A moment's wait, and then Ellen Tyler came out, followed by the others. Her brown curls fell from under the white sunbonnet which surrounded her face like a ruffled halo. The delicate cream of her skin but made the glowing brown eyes and the scarlet lips the lovelier by contrast. Her pretty teeth gleamed through the curved line of parted lips as she bounded smilingly down the flower-bordered path. She had a great bunch of spice pinks and blue bachelor buttons in her hand, and as she reached the wagon she threw the blue blossoms into Dian's lap, saying gleefully, "These belong to you, Dian."
"Why?" cried out Charlie Rose, who stood waiting for his partner, at the wheel, "do you think Dian is destined to be a blue-stocking or will she marry an old bachelor?" and the young man sprang gracefully to assist Ellen to her place.
"Dian's never blue herself, and so she may have my bluest flowers," said Ellen, as she leaned over the seat to give her friend a good-morning kiss.
Fat and jolly Tom Allen had thoughtfully brought out a chair on which stout and kindly Aunt Clara could climb safely into the back seat with him. Lucy Winthrop and Josephine Tyler, as inseparable childish friends, occupied the other seat.
Soon all were seated; the plethoric baskets were disposed of; and the merry party dashed through the tree-bordered streets, John Stevens managing his double team with the skill of long practice.
Just at the edge of the town a young man galloped up on horse-back, and raised his straw hat gracefully to the ladies, reined in his horse near Diantha Winthrop, and sat on his trotting steed in true English style. Diantha greeted the young man as Brother Boyle; and at once gayly devoted her attention to him, ignoring her partner, John Stevens, with girlish obliviousness.
There was a great clattering of wheels and many gay jests, with gusts of youthful laughter floating out from that wagon-load of happy hilarity. The placid Aunt Clara Tyler looked on from her vantage point in the back seat, with sympathetic companionship. They overtook and passed scores and hundreds of teams, all traveling in the same direction. And each party was given, as they