It was just at the time when the fruit-trees were in bloom, and the watered gardens around Baghdad miracles of loveliness, that it entered Lady Haigh’s head to give a picnic. Some miles down the Tigris were the ruins of an ancient fort, situated on a bold bluff overhanging the stream, and surrounded by fruit-gardens, in one of which was a flimsy summer-palace, built of wood, and almost in decay. The spot was noted for its fruit-trees, which were supposed to flourish on the site of an ancient battle-field, and Sir Dugald was accustomed to rent the place every spring and summer as a refuge from the heat and miasma of Baghdad. There was plenty of shooting to be had on the neighbouring plains, and good fishing for any one that cared for it, so that a week or two at the summer-villa was a coveted treat to the staff at the Consulate. It was not yet time for the great heat which makes the city almost unbearable, but the fruit-blossom was particularly lovely this year, and Lady Haigh was fired with the desire to display Takht-Iskandar in all its beauty. She could not have all her friends out to stay with her, especially since the habitable part of the house was now exceedingly limited in extent, but she could at any rate give them a sight of the place, and therefore she sent out invitations for a picnic. Of course Cecil and Azim Bey were invited. The latter, who was deputed by his father to represent him on the occasion, accepted the charge with huge delight, and kept his attendants hard at work for days beforehand in bringing all his equipments to the highest pitch of perfection. He felt that he was about to perform a public function, and his youthful heart beat high with pride. Cecil’s heart beat high also, but not with pride. She would see Charlie--nay, she would certainly, if Lady Haigh could compass it, get one of those long talks with him which were now a distinguishing delight of Sunday evenings at the Residency. In this hope she put on, under her great white sheet, the newest and prettiest dress she had, one which had just been sent out to her from England, and succeeded in mounting her donkey safely in the unwonted garb. The party from the Residency and most of their guests went down the river to Takht-Iskandar in a steam-launch, but the Pasha preferred the land journey for his son, and thus Cecil and Azim Bey jogged along soberly on donkey-back, followed by a motley group of servants, and preceded by a running groom.