hat momentarily paralysed the gay throng, turned all
eyes in his direction, and brought the more cool and helpful running
to the spot, Dam fell writhing, struggling, and screaming to the
ground.

"The SNAKE! The SNAKE!" he howled, while tears gushed from his eyes
and he strove to dig his way into the ground for safety.

"There it goes!" squealed the fair Amelia pointing tragically. Ladies
duly squeaked, bunched their skirts tightly, jumped on chairs or
sought protection by the side of stalwart admirers.

Men cried "Where?" and gathered for battle. One sporting character
emitted an appalling "View Halloo" and there were a few "Yoicks" and
"Gone Aways" to support his little solecism. Lucille, rushing to Dam,
encountered the fleeing reptile and with a neat stroke of her putter
ended its career.

"It's all right, old chap," sneered Haddon Berners, as the mad,
convulsed, and foaming Dam screamed: "_It's under my foot. It's
moving, moving, moving out_," and doubled up into a knot.

"Oh no, it isn't," he continued. "Lucille has killed it. Nothing to be
terrified about.... Oh, chuck it, man! Get up and blow your nose...."
He was sent sprawling on his back as Lucille dropped by Dam's side and
strove to raise his face from the grass.

"Come off it, Dam! You're very funny, we know," adjured the sporting
character, rather ashamed and discomfortable at seeing a brother man
behaving so. There are limits to acting the goat--especially with
wimmin about. Why couldn't Dam drop it?...

Lucille was shocked and horrified to the innermost fibres of her
being. Her dignified, splendid Dam rolling on the ground, shrieking,
sobbing, writhing.... Ill or well, joke or seizure, it was horrible,
unseemly.... Why couldn't the gaping fools be obliterated?...

"Dam, dear," she whispered in his ear, as she knelt over the
shuddering, gasping, sobbing man. "What is it, Dam? Are you ill? Dam,
it's Lucille.... The snake is quite dead, dear. I killed it. Are you
joking? Dam! _Dam_!" ...

The stricken wretch screamed like a terrified child.

"Oh, won't somebody fetch Dr. Jones if he's not here yet," she wailed,
turning to the mystified crowd of guests. "Get some water quickly,
somebody, salts, brandy, anything! Oh, _do_ go away," and she deftly
unfastened the collar of the spasm-wracked sufferer. "Haddon," she
cried, looking up and seeing the grinning Haddock, "go straight for
Dr. Jones. Cycle if you're afraid of spoiling your clothes by riding.