“What are you going to do?” said I. “Oh,” said Joe, “I shan’t leave till all the Committee go; I must be at the giving away of the prizes in the tent; and then, if any thing should happen afterwards--any row, you know, or that sort o’ thing--I shouldn’t like to be gone.” I didn’t say any thing more, as I thought I might just as well leave it open; so I followed him to the west side of the Castle, where the police tent stood, and it was quite quiet. “Here they are,” said Joe, “over in the ditch;” and he scrambled up the bank, and I after him, and in the ditch below sure enough was a most cozy tea-party. Miss Lucy, with her bonnet off, was sitting cutting up a cake, and generally directing. Two other young women, nice fresh-looking girls, but not to be named with her, were setting out a few cups and saucers and plates, which they had borrowed from some of the stalls. Mr. Warton was on his knees with his hat off, blowing away till he was red in the face at a little fire made of chips and pieces of old hampers, over which the kettle, also borrowed, hung from three sticks driven into the ground so that their tops met above the fire. Two or three young farmers sat about looking on, or handing things as they were wanted, except one impudent young fellow of about eighteen, with scarcely a hair on his chin, who was almost in Miss Lucy’s pocket, and was meddling with every thing she was doing. “Well, here you are, at last,” said she, looking up at us; “why, where have you been all day?” “I am sure I have been hunting after you very often,” said I, which, perhaps, was rather more than I ought to have said; “but it isn’t easy for one who is a stranger to find people in such a crowd.” “I don’t know that,” said she, with a pretty little toss of her head; “where there’s a will there’s a way. If I hadn’t found friends, I might have been alone all day--and there are three or four of the shows I have never seen, now.” I began to look as sorry as I could, while I thought what to answer, when the young man who was close to her tried to steal some of the cake; she turned round quickly, and rapped his fingers with the back of her knife, and he pretended to be hurt. She only laughed, and went on cutting up the cake, but she called him Jack, and seemed so intimate with him that it put me out, and I sat down on the other side of the circle, some way off. “It’s all right,” said the Parson, looking up from the fire; “boils splendidly--give me the tea.” Miss Lucy handed him a little parcel of tea from her bag, and he put it into the kettle. “I declare we have forgotten the milk,” said she; “do run and fetch it, Jack--it’s in a bottle under the back seat of the four-wheel.”