Once in a while, and after meals, Mrs. Orde allowed him a single piece of sponge-cake; no more. But now, Bobby, catching the eye of Celia upon him, grimaced, pantomimed to call attention, and deliberately _broke_ off a big chunk of Mrs. Owen's frosted work of art and proceeded to devour it. Celia's eyes widened with horror; which to Bobby's depraved state of mind was reward enough. Then Mrs. Orde uttered a cry of astonishment; Mrs. Owen a dignified but outraged snort; and Bobby was yanked into space. After the storm had cleared, he found himself, somewhat dishevelled, aboard the _Robert O_, entrusted to Captain Marsh, provided with three bread-and-butter sandwiches, and promised a hair-brush spanking for the morrow. Mrs. Orde was not only mortified, but shocked to the very depths of her faith. "I don't know how to explain it!" she said again and again. "Bobby is always so good about such things! I've brought him up--and _deliberately_. My dear Mrs. Owen, such a beautiful frosting, and to have it ruined like that!" But Mrs. Fuller, fat, placid, perhaps slightly stupid, here rose to the heights of what her husband always admiringly called "horse sense." "Now, Carroll," she said, "stop your worrying about it. You'll get yourself all worked up and spoil your lunch and ours, all for nothing. Children will be naughty sometimes. I was naughty myself. So were you, probably. That's human nature. Just don't worry about it and spoil the good time." Mrs. Orde thereupon fell silent, for she was a sensible woman and could see the point as to lessening the other's enjoyment. Little by little she cooled off, until at last she was able to join in the fun; although always in the background of her mind persisted the necessity of knowing a _reason_ for such an outbreak. The flurry over, Welton insisted that they all admire the peaches. "Best Michigan produces," he boasted. "Every one big as a coffee-cup; and perfect in shape, colour and flavour. Freestone, too. Nothing exceptional about them either. Millions more just like 'em. Can't match them anywhere in the world." "Saw by the paper this spring that the peach crop was ruined by the frost," marvelled Carlin. Taylor laughed. "My dear fellow, the Michigan peach crop is destroyed regularly _every_ spring. Seem to be enough peaches by August, however." They fell to on the lunch. When they had eaten all they could, there still remained enough to have fed four other picnics of the same size as their own. Bobby remained not long cast down, however. "Been at it, have you?" observed Captain Marsh after the irate parent had departed. "What was it this time?" "I ate a piece of cake," replied Bobby. "H'm! That doesn't sound very bad." "It was Mrs. Owen's cake," supplemented Bobby. "I see," said the Captain gravely in enlightenment. "What are you going to do now?" "I'm going to eat my lunch," Bobby informed him, showing the three bread-and-butter sandwiches.