t afternoon.

Phineas did not come till late,--till seven, when the banquet was
over. I think he was right in this, as the banqueting in tents loses
in comfort almost more than it gains in romance. A small picnic may
be very well, and the distance previously travelled may give to a
dinner on the ground the seeming excuse of necessity. Frail human
nature must be supported,--and human nature, having gone so far
in pursuit of the beautiful, is entitled to what best support the
unaccustomed circumstances will allow. Therefore, out with the cold
pies, out with the salads, and the chickens, and the champagne. Since
no better may be, let us recruit human nature sitting upon this moss,
and forget our discomforts in the glory of the verdure around us. And
dear Mary, seeing that the cushion from the waggonet is small, and
not wishing to accept the too generous offer that she should take it
all for her own use, will admit a contact somewhat closer than the
ordinary chairs of a dining-room render necessary. That in its way is
very well;--but I hold that a banquet on narrow tables in a tent is
displeasing.

Phineas strolled into the grounds when the tent was nearly empty, and
when Lady Glencora, almost sinking beneath her exertions, was taking
rest in an inner room. The Duke at this time was dining with their
royal highnesses, and three or four others, specially selected,
very comfortably within doors. Out of doors the world had begun to
dance,--and the world was beginning to say that it would be much
nicer to go and dance upon the boards inside as soon as possible.
For, though of all parties a garden party is the nicest, everybody
is always anxious to get out of the garden as quick as may be. A few
ardent lovers of suburban picturesque effect were sitting beneath the
haycocks, and four forlorn damsels were vainly endeavouring to excite
the sympathy of manly youth by playing croquet in a corner. I am not
sure, however, that the lovers beneath the haycocks and the players
at croquet were not actors hired by Lady Glencora for the occasion.

Phineas had not been long on the lawn before he saw Lady Laura
Kennedy. She was standing with another lady, and Barrington Erle was
with them. "So you have been successful?" said Barrington, greeting
him.

"Successful in what?"

"In what? In getting a ticket. I have had to promise three
tide-waiterships, and to give deep hints about a bishopric expected
to be vacant, before I got in. But wha