" And after ten
minutes, when old Joe did not turn up, all those old folks began to
shake their heads doubtfully and dismally, and the old boys dropped
their pipes, and the old ladies began to weep and whinnick.

[Illustration: "OLD JOE WILKINGS--AFTER LUNCH."]

For old Joe Wilkings, being wild-like with merriment, had gone in pretty
heavily for the champagne and stuff, and had got a bit mixed, as you
might say, and he had gone off a little way to get some dry wood to make
a fire to boil the kettle over, and then he hadn't seemed to be able to
recollect which was his way back; and had wandered and wandered off in
quite the wrong direction; and at last he had got drowsy and fallen
asleep in a dry ditch with his wooden leg on the lower rail of a fence;
and then a local policeman who didn't know him had taken charge of him
and trotted him off to Winklechurch, which was the nearest village.

And those old people at the picnic got more and more depressed and
feeble and helpless; and some of 'em broke down completely, and wept and
doddered; for you see the influence of old Joe Wilkings's determination
was rapidly giving out. And at last, after the doctor had waited
anxiously at the railway station for them, and hour after hour went by
without any signs of them, he decided to look them up at any cost; and
at eleven that night he found them all sitting there on the bank of the
river that depressed and helpless you can't imagine. Not a single one of
them all had had the courage to move, and their fright and despair were
perfectly fearful. And a nice trouble he had to get them home--had to
send for flys, and bath-chairs, and litters, and goodness alone knows
what all!

Well, then they had to find old Joe Wilkings, and mighty anxious they
were about him; and a nice tramp they had up hill and down dale before
they discovered him; and when they did, they found him rolled up in a
shawl on the policeman's hearthrug, for, of course, Mr. Podder, the
policeman, was not going to lock up the likes of an old boy of his age.
Joe Wilkings had recovered a bit now, and he was that pugnacious he
wanted to fight Mr. Podder and all those that had come to find him; and
what should he do but put his back against Mr. Podder's parlour-wall
(smashing the glass of the chromo of "Little Red Riding-Hood" that was
hanging up), and invite the lot to "Come on."

However, they quieted him down and got him home at last; and when he'd
got home he was that