Joining company, we proceeded together to the park, and set about our picnic in the usual harum-scarum fashion, chasing truant children, losing one another, finding one another, making merry over the most dire mishaps, and enjoying the whole thing hugely--elders, juveniles, and all--from beginning to end.
The vicar made a perfect boy of himself.

With a charming gleefulness, he did the most outrageous things--at which Master Adolphus, aetat twelve, would have turned up his nose, as being much beneath his years and dignity.

He said he did it only to amuse the children; but, he took such an active part in the games he instituted, that we declared that he joined in them for his own personal gratification.
Monsieur Parole d'Honneur, too, who was the gayest of the gay, specially distinguished himself for his vaulting powers in a sport which he entitled in his broken English manner "ze leap of ze frog;" and, as for grave Doctor Batson, whom we all thought so formal and dignified in his professional tether, why, the way in which he "stuck in his twopenny," as the boys said, and "gave a `back,'" was a caution to the lookers-on! Then we had a substantial "soldier's tea" in and around a little cottage conveniently-situated close to the park:--there, we boiled our kettles, and brewed great jorums of straw-coloured water, at the sight of which a Chinaman would have been filled with horror, impregnated as it was with the taste of new tin and the flavour of moist brown sugar and milk.

The children enjoyed it, however, in conjunction with clothes baskets full of sliced bread-and-butter, and buns and cake galore:-- so, our main consideration was satisfied.
The whole thing passed off well, the only mishap, throughout the day, arising from Horner having filled Miss Spight's galoshes with hot tea; but, as she did not happen to be wearing them at the time, the accident was not of much consequence, although she soundly rated the young gentleman for his awkwardness.
Everybody, too, was satisfied--the vicar and Miss Pimpernell, at the success of the treat and the pleasure of the school-children; the churchwardens, that the expenses did not come out of their pockets; Lady Dasher, at Mr Mawley's attentions to her daughter, which she really thought "quite marked;" and the rest of us, more youthful members of the parish gathering, at the general delightfulness of the day's outing--the excursion by water, the picnic in the park, the gipsying, the fresh breeze, the bright sun, the everything! I was happy, too, although I had not yet had a chance of speaking to Min privately--in the boat there were more listeners near than I cared for, and on shore she was too busy entertaining a small crowd of toddlekins, for whose delectation she told deeply-involved fairy stories, and wove unlimited daisy-chains of intricate patterns and simple workmanship.
Still, I knew that before night closed, I should have the wished-for opportunity of telling my tale; and, in the meantime, I was quite contented to sit near her, and hear her sweet voice, and be certain that she did not care for Mr Mawley after all! The day could not pass, however, without the curate and I having our customary spar; and it happened in this wise.
On our way down to the gondola, after packing up the omnibus contingent of juveniles safely, in company with their mothers and a hecatomb of emptied baskets, and seeing the party off with a parting cheer from both sides, Miss Spight amiably suggested that she thought it was going to rain; at which, of course, there arose a general outcry.
"Dear me," said Miss Pimpernell, "I believe you are right, for, there are the midges dancing, too! I hope none of you girls will get your new bonnets spoilt! But, you needn't be alarmed, my dears," she added to reassure us, "it is certain not to come down before morning, if you will take an old woman's word for it." "You may believe Sally, and set your minds at ease," said the vicar.
"She's a rare judge of the weather, and as good as a farmer or sailor in that respect." "Are the midges a sign of rain ?" asked Min; "I never heard that before." "Yes, my dear," said Miss Pimpernell, seating herself in the gondola, which we had now reached.

"They always dance about twelve hours or so before it rains." "Are there not some other signs given by animals, also, when there is going to be a change in the weather ?" asked Bessie Dasher.
"Yes," said Mr Mawley, anxious, as usual, to show off his erudition, "cows low, swallows fly near the ground, sheep bleat, and--" "Asses bray," said I, with emphasis.
"So I hear," said he quickly.