"
A day spent in the "open," with the blue sky over one's head, is
indeed a splendid tonic for jaded nerves. But one should not make
the mistake of thinking that because he (or she) is "roughing it"
for a day, he (or she) can therefore leave behind his (or her)
"manners," for such is not the case. There is a distinct
etiquette for picnics, and any one who disregards this fact is
apt to find to his (or her) sorrow that the "shoe" in this case
is decidedly "on the other foot."
A young man, for example, is often asked by a young lady to
accompany her on a "family picnic." To this invitation he should,
after some consideration,, reply either "Yes" or "No," and if the
former, he should present himself at the young lady's house
promptly on the day set for the affair (usually Sunday).
A "family picnic" generally consists of a Buick, a father, a
mother, a daughter, a small son, beef loaf, lettuce sandwiches, a
young man (you), two blow-outs, one spare tire, and Aunt
Florence.
The father drives with his small boy beside him; in the rear are
the mother, the daughter, Aunt Florence, the thermos bottles, the
lunch baskets and you. As you take your seat you must remember
that it is a distinct evidence of bad breeding to show in any way
that you are conscious of the fact that the car has been standing
for the last hour and forty-four minutes in the hot July sun.
"We're off!" cries father, pressing his foot on the self-starting
pedal.
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