the wall for a moment, transformed himself by the aid
of a towel and napkin into a first-class head-waiter, reappeared, laid a
row of plates along the top of the wall, as at a bar-room or
eating-house, again retreated to the other side with some provisions,
and, making the gentlemen of the party stand up to the wall, went
through the whole play with most entire gravity. When we had wound up
with a good laugh, and were again seated together on the grass around
the table, we espied two wretched figures, not the convicts this time,
although we might have easily persuaded ourselves so, but only tramps
gazing at us over the wall from the marsh side as they approached, and
finally sitting down, just outside the churchyard gate. They looked
wretchedly hungry and miserable, and Dickens said at once, starting up,
"Come, let us offer them a glass of wine and something good for lunch."
He was about to carry them himself, when what he considered a happy
thought seemed to strike him. "_You_ shall carry it to them," he cried,
turning to one of the ladies; "it will be less like a charity and more
like a kindness if one of you should speak to the poor souls!" This was
so much in character for him, who stopped always to choose the most
delicate way of doing a kind deed, that the memory of this little
incident remains, while much, alas! of his wit and wisdom have vanished
beyond the power of reproducing. We feasted on the satisfaction the
tramps took in their lunch, long after our own was concluded; and,
seeing them well off on their road again, took up our own way to Gad's
Hill Place. How comfortable it looked on our return; how beautifully the
afternoon gleams of sunshine shone upon the holly-trees by the porch;
how we turned away from the door and went into the playground, where we
bowled on the green turf, until the tall maid in her spotless cap was
seen bringing the five-o'clock tea thitherward; how the dews and the
setting sun warned us at last we must prepare for dinner; and how
Dickens played longer and harder than any one of the company, scorning
the idea of going in to tea at that hour, and beating his ball instead,
quite the youngest of the company up to the last moment!--all this
returns with vivid distinctness as I write these inadequate words.

Many days and weeks passed over after those June days were ended before
we were to see Dickens again. Our meeting then was at the station in
London, on our way to Gad's Hill once more