But they never would.
Another good way we discovered of irritating the aristocratic type of steam launch, was to mistake them for a beanfeast, and ask them if they were Messrs.

Cubit's lot or the Bermondsey Good Templars, and could they lend us a saucepan.
Old ladies, not accustomed to the river, are always intensely nervous of steam launches.

I remember going up once from Staines to Windsor--a stretch of water peculiarly rich in these mechanical monstrosities--with a party containing three ladies of this description.

It was very exciting.

At the first glimpse of every steam launch that came in view, they insisted on landing and sitting down on the bank until it was out of sight again.