g out wakefully
in the whole force of her estimable maternal character, seize on a
supplementary fork, and ply that useful instrument incessantly between
the choicest morsels in the whole round of dishes, and the few vacant
places left available on the Reverend Samuel's plate. "Don't laugh at my
son," cried the old lady, observing the merriment which her proceedings
produced among the company. "It's my fault, poor dear--_I_ make him
eat!" And there are men in this world who, seeing virtues such as
these developed at the table, as they are developed nowhere else, can,
nevertheless, rank the glorious privilege of dining with the smallest
of the diurnal personal worries which necessity imposes on mankind--with
buttoning your waistcoat, for example, or lacing your stays! Trust no
such monster as this with your tender secrets, your loves and hatreds,
your hopes and fears. His heart is uncorrected by his stomach, and the
social virtues are not in him.

The last mellow hours of the day and the first cool breezes of the long
summer evening had met before the dishes were all laid waste, and the
bottles as empty as bottles should be. This point in the proceedings
attained, the picnic party looked lazily at Pedgift Junior to know what
was to be done next. That inexhaustible functionary was equal as ever to
all the calls on him. He had a new amusement ready before the quickest
of the company could so much as ask him what that amusement was to be.

"Fond of music on the water, Miss Milroy?" he asked, in his airiest and
pleasantest manner.

Miss Milroy adored music, both on the water and the land--always
excepting the one case when she was practicing the art herself on the
piano at home.

"We'll get out of the reeds first," said young Pedgift. He gave
his orders to the boatmen, dived briskly into the little cabin, and
reappeared with a concertina in his hand. "Neat, Miss Milroy, isn't
it?" he observed, pointing to his initials, inlaid on the instrument
in mother-of-pearl. "My name's Augustus, like my father's. Some of my
friends knock off the 'A,' and call me 'Gustus Junior.' A small joke
goes a long way among friends, doesn't it, Mr. Armadale? I sing a little
to my own accompaniment, ladies and gentlemen; and, if quite agreeable,
I shall be proud and happy to do my best."

"Stop!" cried Mrs. Pentecost; "I dote on music."

With this formidable announcement, the old lady opened a prodigious
leather bag, from which she never par