IT

T was an ideal day for a pic-nic; warm but not sultry, bright but not glaring, breezy and not windy; the very day of all the three hundred and sixty-five for the prize fête of the season. Charley Dunn

said that he had ordered it expressly for the occasion, having spoken to his friend the clerk of the weather up there;' an announcement which was received, as it always is, with a burst of laughter that very foolish announcement as if something witty had been said. But then Charley Dunn was privileged; a 'chartered libertine he used to call himself, spreading out his arms for butterfly wings; and it was one of the canons of the society in which he lived to believe in his wit, and accept his sayings as of the finest quality of humour. He was, in fact, the crowned Punch of the Brough-Bridge community; though, to do him justice, his bâton was made only of pasteboard and hurt no one's knuckles; and as he wore his pinchbeck gracefully, and gave himself no airs of sovereignty, society felt no special call to drop the tinsel into the smelting pot for the purpose of testing the residuum of gold at the bottom. So that when he talked nonsense about the weather to-day, and laid himself out to do his part of the general entertainment with more than ordinary energy, every one was open-mouthed with anticipation, and perfectly sure that the sunshine and Charley Dunn could beat even fate and the enemy,' whatever that might mean.

They made a pleasant party on the whole, though there was the usual admixture of the 'doubtful element' the old maids, starched matrons, and stiff-backed 'propriety men,' who have always to be asked on such occasions, and who are always so frightfully sure to come. There was, first, the little group of

confessed aristocrats, the first-class people of the place, headed by old Lady Scratchley, third cousin to a duke in her own right, and widow of a ruined baronet, but who might have been own sister to the queen, and the deposed occupant of a principality, for the amount of condescension and fallen grandeur that she displayed; and by her side, as polite and courtly as though she were a lady of the bedchamber doing homage to a sovereign (this was to show the second class what court manners and the aristocracy were like), was Miss Le Jeune, of the good old county family-a little decayed now unhappily, and no longer possessing the original seat. She was a lady of a certain age, with a high nose, thin lips, and straight eyebrows, who laid immeasurable stress on blood and had a lofty contempt for mere money' -money got by trade being her especial aversion. With her was tall and slender auburn-haired Miss Turnbull, her niece, whose father was unfortunately only a younger son, but a man of family and quite thoroughbred: that meaning, if translated into the vernacular, 'as poor as a rat, and too proud and lazy to work.' Wherefore, on the strength of her gentlehood, Annie Turnbull went about the world with her head tossed up to the clouds; though, to be sure, the blue forget-me-nots in her bonnet were of the 'poorest style of artificial flower known,' as Lady Scratchley's confidential maid remarked, just a trifle disdainfully. But then she had good blood in her veins, which every one has not, and so had a right to toss up her head, and look for a Prince Florimel at the very least. Also, in the same group stood Miss Grandville, a deceased dean's daughter, who talked ecclesiastical architecture, and took it as

a personal affront if any one expressed Low Church opinions in her presence a handsome young woman, but stiff and reserved, fraternising only with the Le Jeune, and even that not too cordially. The flowery-wigged old lady was too light-minded for her, and exacted too much subserviency; and Miss Grandville felt it due to herself, as the representative of the ecclesiastical power, to stand on her rights, and rather demand respect from the secular power than pay it. For which reason she and my Lady Scratchley were generally at arms' length, and hated one another heartily.

The gentlemen flanking this little coterie were Admiral Price, a monkey-faced old sailor with not too many brains; Whiting Fox, the retired diplomatist, and his son, young Mr. Whiting Fox, down from the Home Office on his leave; Colonel Badger and Captain Turbotte: all of them, save the young Home Office Adonis, elderly, unmarried (bachelors or widowers), and ineligible. Close to this small knot of exclusives stood the three Miss Globbs and their four brothers; a tall, large-limbed, well-developed family, with loud voices, a clear enunciation, and decided leanings to the muscular side of Christian living. They were more than a little fast, these young people; but good-hearted enough, and with no very dangerous propensities; still, there the taint was; and though they were general favourites, it was under protest, and 'what a pity it is' always added to their names. But as no one could deny their goodnature, or the inherent innocency of their natures, they came at last to be as well known for chartered libertinism' as Charley Dunn himself, and with as complete immunity from untoward consequences. They always had a long following_of penniless cornets and young collegians not yet come to their estates, and not likely to do so; charming men, but not of the marrying order; and party givers who knew them took care to leave a tolerable margin for contingencies: so that, when they came to-day, accompanied by

four or five useful men,' it was only what was expected, and no one was surprised.

Then there was Miss Moss, the oriental-looking belle of Cheltenham for a season, to whom tradition and ill-natured gossip assigned an earlier patronymic than that which she bore now, and her brother, young Abraham Moss, if anything more decidedly oriental than herself: and these two young people were the cleverest and most entertaining of the company. And there were the two Miss Hawtreys from London, who played and sang themselves into society everywhere, but whose parents and kinsfolk were mythical and of quite unknown condition and pretty, affected, sentimental Mary Dowthwaite; and bluff Margaret Wood-her friends called her Maggie, and a few Maggie Lauder-who spoke her mind to every one, and did not in the least care whose toes she trod on. There were several more; young men of varying fortunes and very varying features; young ladies of less distinctly-marked individuality-some strangers whom no one of the old set knew, and who did not know each other and then there were the staid married couples of a certain age to give a sanction and consistency to the whole.

'Must have veal pies and legs of lamb before we come to the sweets!' said Charley Dunn in an apologetic kind of way, defending his administration to the young ladies. And among them were Mr. Samuel Harmer Hunter, the giver of the pic-nic, standing near to Mr. and Mrs. St. John, little Georgie Fenton's half-sister and her husband. then there was little Georgie herself, and papa's private secretary, young Mr. Roger Lewin.

And

Mrs. St. John, a black-eyed, sharpfaced little woman, was many years older than little Georgie; old enough indeed, to have been her mother, though she would have been very much disgusted had any one said so in her hearing, being of those who are jealous of the revelations of time, and who insist on juvenility to the last day of their lives. And being so much

older, it was but natural that she should exercise a maternal kind of control over her young sister, whose mother had died when the little one was born, poor thing! though, as Georgie used to say with tears in her pretty eyes, and some show of reason, she need not be always so cross, and treat me so like a naughty child. I am nineteen now, and surely ought to know how to behave!'

Which was in reference chiefly to Mrs. St. John's expression of grave displeasure-excited even to that point of wrath which culminated in boxing her young sister's ears-when she found her in the great drawingroom playing chess alone with Mr. Roger Lewin, 'only a private secretary' if you will, but a dangerous young man enough in the eyes of an elder sister careful about settlements, and inimical to portionless love.

Mrs. St. John had no very strict acquaintance with love in any of its aspects, being one of the hard sort, as her maid used to say, with no sympathies or affections that had not a substantial bearing. She was an energetic little busybody who must interfere in every one's concerns, but never to good or kindliness; a conceited, sharp-tempered, restless, and essentially vulgar woman-her very manners, indeed, being not of the smooth and undulating character belonging to her order, but spiky where they were not angular; very worldly withal, and anxious that no one connected with her should walk in any path, social or spiritual, of which she had not first set the boundaries and trodden down the causeway. Her present great object was to marry sister Georgie to Mr. Samuel Harmer Hunter, a well-conditioned, not ill-looking, and very wealthy iron merchant from the Black Country: a little older than Georgie, certainly (he was fifty-one last birthday), but still a fine figure of a man, and bearing his years bravely. Besides, it is better to be an old man's darling than a young man's slave,' was Mrs. St. John's perpetual commentary, when that obstructive clause was mentioned as a thing material to the question. Nothing

was wanting for the consummation of her wishes but the young lady's own consent, and this she refused to give; though her sister talked to her by the hour together; and Mr. St. John clinched her every argument with Just so, Georgie; do as your sister tells you;' and though sleepy, irascible, weak-minded old papa lent his influence, too, to the same side (when daughter Carry was by), telling Georgie that she might 'go farther and fare worse,' and sometimes advising her, for him, quite strenuously; but promising, being a kind-hearted old man, if passionate, and very fond of his young daughter, that he would not force her if she did not consent of her own free will. And that was quite as much grace as little Georgie could expect.

Thus matters stood when Charley Dunn persuaded Mr. Samuel Harmer Hunter to give a pic-nic to all the gentry round about Brough Bridge, as the best means of making himself popular; which, as a new comer, who had made his money in trade, he found some difficulty in perfecting. For the Brough Bridge people prided themselves on their gentility; and even the very poorest of the admirals and the colonels and the withered' scions of nobility,' as platform orators call them, publicly disdained the pretensions to equality of a retired iron merchant from the Black Country, however rich he was; though, to do them justice, all the mothers with single daughters, and all the single daughters themselves, made up their private blandishments for what was wanting in cordial social recognition; and every one knew that their disdain was a mere pretence, and that each and all abandoned their order when that order was out of sight. Like the augurs of Rome, they could scarcely look into each other's faces with gravity, when the 'disabilities' of Mr. Hunter were discussed over their meagre teas; exclusive, if meagre.

Mr. Hunter being a reticent, selfsustained, rather thick-skinned man, cared little for all this. He knew quite well what time and money do in the long run; so he bided his

time, spent his money, and left the issue to the kindly dews and genial rains ever favouring the good seed. The sequel proved his wisdom. When he and Charley Dunn (Charley was his right-hand man) sent out their invitations to a grand pic-nic to be held at Harrow-field-side, every person in the place accepted: and the muster on the Oaks lawn, where they all assembled before starting, numbered seventy-five and a half, Charley counting old Trouncer, the Newfoundland, as the half. Seventyfive, including not only the élite of Brough Bridge and its neighbourhood, but also many of the second class'-those dwellers on the debatable land of gentility, always to be found in a community. And to have floated these down was even a greater triumph than to have flung himself on to the crest of the wave. If Georgie Fenton would have only said 'Yes,' Mr. Hunter's cup of pride and happiness would have been filled to the brim.

It was not only the retired iron merchant who thought the young daughter of the retired banker, in her fresh light muslin and coquettish hat, the prettiest girl, and the most charming, of the assembly; many others shared his opinion. Charley Dunn himself, though by no means apt to be 'spooney' on any girl, and more inclined to adore all than to love one-even he was a trifle troubled by her-just a shade more serious towards her than towards the rest; and if he had had twopence-halfpenny a year, he used to say-unfortunately, he had only twopence-farthing '-he might have felt inclined to commit himself to matrimony and misery for the rest of his life. But besides these two, and the half-dozen unattached, putting out their feelers everywhere, like shrimps or sea-anemones, for unknown food, there was Roger Fenton, to whom Miss Lewin (he was obliged to be respectful, being only the private secretary) was simply the realization of his womanly ideal, and the one sole beloved of his life. If Georgie thought the same of him for her own part, it was no wonder; for he was a handsome young fellow to

look at; and of a fine and noble character; steadfast, unselfish, generous, and reliable; stern to men and loving to women, as all women desire of their hero; and one whose word, and power of endurancethat patience of courage-could be trusted to any extent. He was a

man with whom women instinctively felt safe;' which adjective expresses all that they most love and revere.

All being assembled then on the lawn, the question now was, how should they go to Harrow-fieldside? and, who should take who? Charley Dunn, who knew the unrecorded wishes of half the young men and of all the girls, mated and marshalled them to the best of his power and the plasticity of circumstance; putting himself to unheard-of straits in his endeavour to please everybody, wherein he generally succeeded. However, ill or well, he did it, which was something accomplished: packing them up in separate parcels according to such pleasant admixture as he deemed best for the society at large, as well as for the service of the individual. And now there remained only Miss Le Jeune and Miss Annie

who, because they were well born, were very careful of their company, and inexorable on the score of chaperonage-the St. Johns and little Georgie, Mr. Hunter, Roger Lewin, and himself:-eight people, four and four, to share in a phaeton and a dog-cart. It was Mr. Hunter's design that the St. Johns and the Le Jeunes should go in the phaeton, driven by Charley Dunn or Roger Lewin, both of whom were good whips, and that he would drive Miss Georgiana over in the dogcart; an arrangement to which Charley, for his part, had consented with a good grace, thinking it only fair that the host should do what he liked best for himself, and that if he 'chose to tool over Miss Little one pretty one, why shouldn't he? He paid his money and he took his choice: and he was a lucky dog that he had money to pay, and a clever one for the choice he made.' Charley did not go on to say that he, and half a score more, would have chosen the very same thing.