The young people soon left the table, and a couple very differently constituted pressed themselves into the vacant places. The others were not half satisfied. Some of them would stuff to the verge of apoplexy, then roll down-stairs, and swill whisky-and-water by the tumblerful. It was holiday; a time of over-eating and over-drinking. They had little self-control. They unbuttoned their clothes at table, and wiped their streaming faces with the cloth. "I'm glad we went to goose dinner, but I shouldn't go again. It was gorging, not eating," said Boodles, as they went along the street. "Let's go and see the living pictures," said Aubrey. "But we've seen them." "We'll go again. Perhaps they will turn on a fresh lot." They liked the living pictures, because the lights were turned down, and they could snuggle together like two kittens and bite each other's fingers. "Then we'll go for a walk--our walk. But no," sighed Boodles; "we can't. It will be time for the ordeal." The fairy-tale was getting on. Ogre time had come. Boodles was to go and drink tea with her boy's parents. "Perhaps we can go our walk later on." "It won't be a real day if we don't," said she. "Our walk" was beside the Tavy, where they had kissed as babies, and loved to wander now that they were children. They thought they were grown up, but that was absurd. People who are in love remain as they were, and never grow up until some one opens the window and lets the cold wind in. "Our walk" was fairyland; a strange and pleasant place after goose dinner and Goose Fair. Brightly was against the railings, and had done no business, although the day was far spent. There was no demand for tie-clips or clay-pipes. Somebody was playing the organ in the church, and Brightly had that music for his dinner. Everybody seemed to be doing well, and he was the one miserable exception. He put up his sharp face, and chirped pathetically: "Wun't ye buy 'em, gentlemen? Tie-clips, penny each. Dree for duppence. Butiful pipes, brave and shiny, two a penny." The roundabout over the way was taking pennies by the bushel; but the roundabout supplied a demand, and Brightly did not. A fat be-ribboned dog passed and snapped at Ju. She took it patiently, having learnt the lesson from her master. Then two young people swept round, and one of them collided with Brightly, and almost knocked his thin figure through the railings. "I beg your pardon," said a bright young voice. "I hope I didn't hurt you." "You'm welcome, sir," said Brightly, wondering what on earth the young gentleman was apologising for. "Why, it's the man with the rabbit-skins. What does he do with them? Now he's selling pipes. Aubrey, I'm going to buy some. Oh, look at the poor little dog! How it shivers! What is the matter with it?" "She'm hungry," explained Brightly. "You look as if you were hungry too," said Aubrey with boyish candour. "I be a bit mazed like, sir," admitted Brightly.