days when he and Mrs.
Buzza were steadfast opponents at Whist.

That Mrs. Simpson discovered her great uncle to have been a baronet
on this earth.

That Mrs. Payne had prefixed "Ellicome" to her surname, and spoke of
"_the_ Ellicome-Paynes, you know."

That Mr. Moggridge had been heard to speak of Sam Buzza as a
"low fellow."

That Sam had retorted by terming the poet a "conceited ass."

And--

That Admiral Buzza intended a Picnic.

To measure the importance of this last item, you must know that a
Trojan picnic is no ordinary function. To begin with, it is
essentially patriotic--devoted, in fact, to the cult of the Troy
river, in honour of which it forms a kind of solemn procession.
Undeviating tradition has fixed its goal at a sacred rock, haunted of
heron and kingfisher, and wrapped around with woodland, beside a
creek so tortuous as to simulate a series of enchanted lakes.
Here the self-respecting Trojan, as his boat cleaves the solitude,
will ask his fellows earnestly and at regular intervals whether they
ever beheld anything more lovely; and they, in duty bound and
absolute truthfulness, will answer that they never did.

It follows that a Trojan picnic depends for its success to quite a
peculiar degree upon the weather. But on the day of the Admiral's
merry-making, this was, beyond cavil, kind. Four boats started from
the Town Quay; four boats--alas!--could by this time contain the
_cumeelfo_ of Troy; for everybody who was anybody had been invited,
and nobody (with the exception of the Honourable Frederic, who could
not leave his telescope) had refused. Sam Buzza did not start with
the rest, but was to follow later; and in his absence Mr. Moggridge
paid impressive court to Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, though uneasily, for
Sophia's saddened eyes were upon him.

Yet everybody seemed in the best of spirits and tempers.
The Admiral, after bestowing his wife in another boat, and glaring
vindictively at Kit's House, where the figure of Mr. Fogo was visible
on the beach, grew exceedingly jocose, and cracked his most admired
jokes, including his famous dialogue with the echo just beyond Kit's
House--a performance which Miss Limpenny declared she had seldom
heard him give with such spirit. She herself, spurred to emulation,
told her favourite story, which began, "In the Great Exhibition of
Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-one, when her Majesty--long may she
reign!--partook of a public luncheon--" and contained a most