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 when she suddenly heard the mournful song of the chorus of frogs in the nearby pond.

She had come to the picnic only to please the old lady, whose dim old eyes were all the time turned watchfully upon her, with the suspicion that the country ennui was oppressing the dear young soul. The company met in front of the old castle. All the local gallants beset Lucy with clever speeches upon their lips. They were all so abominably funny! Lucy felt like a strange hen that had gotten into a flock of cocks, that abandoned their hens, their familiar, good old hens, and ran to her. They beat the earth oddly with their wings, strutted about proudly, drove away their rivals, and crowed their merriest. The icy coldness of her eyes repelled them. They returned to the good patrician daughters who Iooked at her with jealous eyes.

The picnickers reached the place agreed upon,—a slope in the shade of oaks. They seated themselves in the thick grass. Here