Considering that it was a good two hours' drive or more from Bigton, and that it was "getting on" in the afternoon, no one was averse to preparations being at once made for the substantial and real part of the pic-nic. All helped with good will to lay the cloth on the smooth green turf, and unpack the hampers. Even a smile irradiated the choleric and saffronised face of the Indian warrior, who was much disgusted when they sat down to the _al fresco_ banquet that no one had remembered to bring mango, chutney, or Cayenne pepper, without which he assured Lady Inskip that even "the best victuals" were not worth the salt that accompanied them. The old campaigner very judiciously arranged the various members of her company around the tablecloth--one cannot exactly say table. She placed Tom by the side of Carry, at the extreme opposite end of the "board," away from Lizzie, whom she quartered with the gallant lieutenant, Harrowby, by herself. Pringle, of course, was placed next Laura; and although Lady Inskip had been obliged to invite the Rev. Jabez Heavieman, of Bigton, for appearance's sake, she took very good care that he should not run foul of our Ritualistic young incumbent, whom he regarded in much the same light as the devil is supposed to look upon holy water. Everything passed off well, and Lady Inskip was in ecstasies; Carry was apparently having it all her own way with Tom Hartshorne, and Pringle was most devoted to Laura. As for Lizzie, she was hopelessly put on one side, and the campaigner considered "that artful little minx" as done for and out of her way: nothing could be better. The banquet was at length finished. Young Sir Mortimer, having gorged himself sufficiently with cold chicken and greengage tart, so that his face shone again, went off with his gun to shoot in the woods, much against the entreaties of his mother, who fervently implored him "take care, Mortimer, my darling boy, take great care!" The others disposed themselves around; some lolling on the grass, others making a pretence of fishing in the adjacent river: Tom had wandered off somewhere--Lizzie had disappeared; and our cheery Doctor Jolly, who had just arrived in time for the feast--"Bless my soul! madam," as he said, in explanation, "never miss the grub, my lady--never miss my grub,"--was enjoying a cigar along with the "military swells," as he called them. When suddenly Lady Inskip's pride and hope, the boy Mortimer, dashed in amongst them with a scared face, yelling out at the top of his voice-- "Oh! ma, ma! I've shot and killed somebody!" The consternation his advent created can be imagined. "Oh! dear, Morti-mer,--Morti-mer! I told you so: I told you so!" said Lady Inskip, bursting into tears.