he officials, and the guests of the society, but such is the very
excellent character of the ground that all can be accommodated with
grand stand seats. One disappointment, and one only, I must announce,
the Band of the Seventh, London, cannot be with us to-day."

"But we will never miss them," interpolated the Reverend Alexander Munro
with solemn emphasis.

"Exactly so!" continued Fatty when the laugh had subsided. "And now
let's all go in for a good old time picnic, 'where even the farmers
cease from grumbling and the preachers take a rest.' Now take your
places, ladies and gentlemen, for the grand parade is about to begin."

The programme opened with the one hundred yard flat race. For this race
there were four entries, Cahill from London, Fullerton from Woodstock,
La Belle from nowhere in particular, and Wilbur Freeman from Maplehill.
But Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. The secretary came breathless to the
platform.

"Where's Wilbur?" he asked his father.

"Wilbur? Surely he is in the crowd, or in the tent perhaps."

At the tent the secretary found his brother nursing a twisted ankle,
heart-sick with disappointment. Early in the day he had injured his foot
in an attempt to fasten a swing upon a tree. Every minute since that
time he had spent in rubbing and manipulating the injured member, but
all to no purpose. While the pain was not great, a race was out of the
question. The secretary was greatly disturbed and as nearly wrathful as
ever he allowed himself to become. He was set on his brother making a
good showing in this race; moreover, without Wilbur there would be no
competitor to uphold the honour of Maplehill in this contest and this
would deprive it of much of its interest.

"What the dickens were you climbing trees for?" he began impatiently,
but a glance at his young brother's pale and woe-stricken face changed
his wrath to pity. "Never mind, old chap," he said, "better luck next
time, and you will be fitter too."

Back he ran to the platform, for he must report the dismal news to his
mother, whose chief interest in the programme for the day lay in this
race in which her latest born was to win his spurs. The cheery secretary
was nearly desperate. It was an ominous beginning for the day's sports.
What should he do? He confided his woe to Mack and Cameron, who were
standing close by the platform.

"It will play the very mischief with the programme. It will spoil the
whole day, for Wilbur was the sole