noon
Little wayward breezes frolicked up and down the banks of Moose Creek and rasped the surface of its placid pools , swollen still from the heavy rains of the `` First . '' In the glittering sunshine the prairie lay a riot of color ; the first wild roses now had faded to a pastel pink , but on every bush there were plenty of new ones , deeply crimson and odorous . Across the creek from Thomas Shouldice 's little house , Indian pipes and columbine reddened the edge of the poplar grove , from the lowest branches of which morning-glories , white and pink and purple , hung in graceful profusion . Before noon a wagon filled with people came thundering down the trail . As they came nearer Thomas was astonished to see that it was an American family from the Chippen Hill district . `` Picnic in these parts , ai n't there ? '' the driver asked .