The Real Charlotte. 85 



cabin windows, as the last punt load left for the land, and 

 when at last the wails of the captives streamed across the 

 water, anyone but Garry would have repented of the 

 cruelty. The dogs will never forget it to Captain Cur- 

 siter that it was he who rowed out to the launch and 

 brought them ashore to enjoy their fair share of the picnic, 

 and their gratitude will never be tempered by the knowledge 

 that he had caught at the excuse to escape from the con- 

 versation which Miss Hope-Drummond, notwithstanding 

 even the pangs of hunger, was proffering to him. 



There is something unavoidably vulgar in the aspect ot 

 a picnic party when engaged in the culminating rite of 

 eating on the grass. They may feel themselves to be 

 picturesque, gipsy-like, even romantic, but to the unpar- 

 ticipating looker-on, not even the gilded dignity of cham- 

 pagne can redeem them from being a mere group of greedy, 

 huddled backs, with ugly trimmings of paper, dirty plates, 

 and empty bottles. But at Innishochery the only passers-by 

 were straight-flying wild-duck or wood-pigeons, or an occa- 

 sional sea-gull lounging up from the distant Atlantic, all 

 observant enough in their way, but not critical. It is 

 probable they did not notice even the singular ungraceful- 

 ness of Miss Mullen's attitude, as she sat with her short 

 legs uncomfortably tucked away, and her large jaws moving 

 steadily as she indemnified herself for the stupidity of the 

 recent trip. The champagne at length had its usual 

 beneficent effect upon the conversation. Charlotte began 

 to tell stories about her cats and her servants to Christopher 

 and Pamela, with admirable dramatic effect and a sense of 

 humour that made her almost attractive. Miss Hope- 

 Drummond had discovered that Cursiter was one of the 

 Lincolnshire Cursiters, and, with mutual friends as stepping- 

 stones, was working her way on with much abihty ; and 

 Francie was sitting on a mossy rock, a little away from the 

 table-cloth, with a plate of cherry-pie on her lap, Mr. 

 Hawkins at her feet, and unlimited opportunities for 

 practical jestings with the cherry-stones. Garry and the 

 dogs were engaged in scraping out dishes and polishing 

 plates in a silence more eloquent than words ; Lambert 

 alone, of all the party, remained impervious to the influences 

 of luncheon, and lay on his side with his eyes moodily 



