THE PICNIC
"Yes!" sobs Evelyn.
"And, it has been a very happy day, hasn't it, sister, dear? says old Goliath.
Evelyn nods and slips an arm about each of the boys.
The sun was just setting. We were driving toward it. The three faces were before me. Jon's was white—with the eyes staring and the hands clenched.
Evelyn was scared—and breathing hard and fast—harder and faster as we got nearer home. Her hands were clenched, too—and unconsciously she drew the boys as hard to her as she could, as if they were both to protect her from something.
Dave's face was full of pure—almost childish joy! Just nothing but joy! He was singing—all alone this time. But he had a bully big tenor voice and I liked to hear him. The nearest neighbors didn't.
"Dear Evelina,
Sweet Evelina,
My love for you shall never, never, die!"
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