Then I began to see why it was so necessary that we should meet somebody we knew--it meant sustenance. It was, as Mr. Trifugis had said, quite time for sustenance, and neither the Bangley Coffin family nor I had had any since breakfast, and if it had not been for that consideration, which was naturally a serious one, I, for my part, would have been delighted just to go round, as we seemed likely to do, by ourselves. There was no band, as there never is in England--I suppose because Edward the Confessor or somebody didn't like bands; but there was everything else that goes to give an occasion brilliance and variety--a mingling crowd of people with conventionally picturesque clothes and interesting manners, sunlight, flags, a race-course, open boxes, an obvious thrill of excitement, a great many novel noises. Besides, it was Ascot, and its interest was intrinsic. 'I think we must try the drags,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin--and we defiled out into the crowd beyond the gates, whose dress is not original, that surges unremuneratively between the people who pay on the coaches and the people who pay on the Lawn. It was more amusing outside, though less exclusive--livelier, noisier. Men were hanging thick against the palings of the Lawn, with expressions of deep sagacity and coloured shirts, calling uninterruptedly, 'Two to one bar one!' 'Two to one Orveito!' and very well dressed young gentlemen occasionally came up and entered into respectful conference with them. We were jostled a good deal in the elbowing multitude, and it seemed to me to be always, as if in irony, by a man who sold gingerbread or boiled lobsters. We made our way through it, however, and walked slowly in the very shadow of the drags, on top of which people with no better appetites than we had were ostentatiously feasting. We were all to look out for the Pibbly hats, and we did--in vain. 'I can't imagine,' said Mrs. Bangley Coffin to each of her daughters in turn, 'why you didn't go with them!' We saw Mr. Trifugis, and noted bitterly that he had not been at all too late. An actress on the Lyric drag gave us a very frank and full-flavoured criticism of our dresses, but it was unsatisfying, except to the sensibilities. 'Shall we try behind, mamma?' asked one of the young ladies. 'Who could possibly see us behind?' exclaimed Mrs. Bangley Coffin, who was getting cross. Nevertheless, we did try behind, and somebody did see us--several very intelligent footmen. 'Is there no place,' I inquired for the fourth or fifth time, 'where we could buy a little light refreshment?' Mrs. Bangley Coffin didn't say there was not, but seemed to think it so improbable that it was hardly worth our while to look. 'Nobody lunches at Ascot, Miss Wick,' she said at last, with a little asperity, 'except on the drags or at the club enclosures. It's--it's impossible.'