"Oi'm thinkin', Mishtress Carrmoikle, it's gettin' toime fer the aitin'
an' drhinkin', wid your lave, mum; but fwhere did yez foind the
skifft?" Brief explanations followed to the veteran and Mr. Errol, who
were at once put under orders, the one to light a fire and produce the
tea-kettle, the other to fill two pails with clean water, and put a
piece of ice in one of them. Soon the colonel and Marjorie came to help,
the cloth was laid, the sandwiches, chickens, pies and cakes, placed
upon it, and everything got in readiness for the home-coming of the
punt. "O Aunty," said Marjorie, "this would be so lovely, if only poor
Eugene were here too."
"So it would, dear," answered the sympathetic aunt and mother, "but we
must try to make the best of it without him."
The kettle boiled under Mr. Terry's superintendence, the tea was infused
in the little Japanese tea-pot, and the colonel, taking from his
waistcoat pocket a silver whistle that had done duty for a cavalry
trumpet in former days, blew a signal for the information of the
punters. In a minute they arrived, bearing two grand strings of fish,
only the strings that went through the gills of the bass were hazel
twigs.
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