one o'clock
`` Lost pins do n't fly , '' retorted Marjorie . `` If they did my butterfly would have come back to me long ago . '' But , even then , though she could not know it , her cherished butterfly was poising its golden wings for the homeward flight . By one o'clock that afternoon 19 -- had assembled at the big elm tree on the river road which had been chosen as a meeting place . The flower hunters had planned to follow the road for a mile to a point where a boat house , which had a small teashop connected with it , was situated . Owing to the continued spring weather the proprietor had opened the place earlier than usual and it was decided that the picnickers should make this their headquarters , returning there for tea when they grew tired of roaming the neighboring woods . Marjorie Dean had not hailed the prospect of 19 -- 's picnic with enthusiasm .