was wrong: she was an admirable ally.
All over the field the Countess went, watching for her mother, praying
that if she did come, Providence might prevent her from coming while
they were at dinner. How clearly Mrs. Shorne and Mrs. Melville saw her
vulgarity now! By the new light of knowledge, how certain they were that
they had seen her ungentle training in a dozen little instances.

'She is not well-bred, 'cela se voit',' said Lady Jocelyn.

'Bred! it's the stage! How could such a person be bred?' said Mrs.
Shorne.

Accept in the Countess the heroine who is combating class-prejudices,
and surely she is pre-eminently noteworthy. True, she fights only for
her family, and is virtually the champion of the opposing institution
misplaced. That does not matter: the Fates may have done it purposely:
by conquering she establishes a principle. A Duke adores her sister,
the daughter of the house her brother, and for herself she has many
protestations in honour of her charms: nor are they empty ones. She can
confound Mrs. Melville, if she pleases to, by exposing an adorer to lose
a friend. Issuing out of Tailordom, she, a Countess, has done all this;
and it were enough to make her glow, did not little evils, and angers,
and spites, and alarms so frightfully beset her.

The sun of the pic-nic system is dinner. Hence philosophers may deduce
that the pic-nic is a British invention. There is no doubt that we do
not shine at the pic-nic until we reflect the face of dinner. To this,
then, all who were not lovers began seriously to look forward, and the
advance of an excellent county band, specially hired to play during
the entertainment, gave many of the guests quite a new taste for sweet
music; and indeed we all enjoy a thing infinitely more when we see its
meaning.

About this time Evan entered the lower park-gates with Andrew. The first
object he encountered was John Raikes in a state of great depression. He
explained his case:

'Just look at my frill! Now, upon my honour, you know, I'm
good-tempered; I pass their bucolic habits, but this is beyond bearing.
I was near the palings there, and a fellow calls out, "Hi! will you help
the lady over?" Holloa! thinks I, an adventure! However, I advised him
to take her round to the gates. The beast burst out laughing. "Now,
then," says he, and I heard a scrambling at the pales, and up came the
head of a dog. "Oh! the dog first," says I. "Catch by the ears," says
he. I did so. "Pull,"