He turned his chair away from the terrace, so that he could sit looking at the meadows and at the stream that runs through the meadows, and at the beech-trees of Other Kingdom that rise beyond the stream. Then, most gravely and admirably, he began to construe the Eclogues of Virgil. II Other Kingdom Copse is just like any other beech copse, and I am therefore spared the fatigue of describing it. And the stream in front of it, like many other streams, is not crossed by a bridge in the right place, and you must either walk round a mile or else you must paddle. Miss Beaumont suggested that we should paddle. Mr. Worters accepted the suggestion tumultuously. It only became evident gradually that he was not going to adopt it. "What fun! what fun! We will paddle to your kingdom. If only--if only it wasn't for the tea-things." "But you can carry the tea-things on your back." "Why, yes! so I can. Or the servants could." "Harcourt--no servants. This is my picnic, and my wood. I'm going to settle everything. I didn't tell you: I've got all the food. I've been in the village with Mr. Ford." "In the village----?" "Yes, We got biscuits and oranges and half a pound of tea. That's all you'll have. He carried them up. And he'll carry them over the stream. I want you just to lend me some tea-things--not the best ones. I'll take care of them. That's all." "Dear creature...." "Evelyn," said Mrs. Worters, "how much did you and Jack pay for that tea?" "For the half-pound, tenpence." Mrs. Worters received the announcement in gloomy silence. "Mother!" cried Mr. Worters. "Why, I forgot! How could we go paddling with mother?" "Oh, but, Mrs. Worters, we could carry you over." "Thank you, dearest child. I am sure you could." "Alas! alas! Evelyn. Mother is laughing at us. She would sooner die than be carried. And alas! there are my sisters, and Mrs. Osgood: she has a cold, tiresome woman. No: we shall have to go round by the bridge." "But some of us----" began Ford. His guardian cut him short with a quick look. So we went round--a procession of eight. Miss Beaumont led us. She was full of fun--at least so I thought at the time, but when I reviewed her speeches afterwards I could not find in them anything amusing. It was all this kind of thing: "Single file! Pretend you're in church and don't talk. Mr. Ford, turn out your toes. Harcourt--at the bridge throw to the Naiad a pinch of tea. She has a headache. She has had a headache for nineteen hundred years." All that she said was quite stupid. I cannot think why I liked it at the time.