Captain Cloherty, alone, of all the company, failed to contribute his share to the sum of success.  He sat silent, a thing of gloom, the lively angle of whose waxed, red moustache only accentuated the downward droop of the mouth beneath it.  But the skeleton at the feast has its uses, if only as a contrast, and Mrs. Mangan, who was more observant than she appeared to be, noted the gloom with a gratified eye, and being entirely aware of its cause, said to herself with satisfaction: 

“Ha, ha, me young man!”

This picnic was, in truth, made ever memorable in the circle of Mrs. Mangan’s friends by reason of the triumph of Tishy.

“Ah, that was the day she cot the two birds under the one stone!” Great-Aunt Cantwell (who did not care for her great-niece) was accustomed to say.  “Well!  Such goings-on!  And after all, Tishy’s nothing so much out of the way, for all Frankie Mangan thinks the world should die down before her!”

The two birds referred to were still fluttering round their captor, when a new element was added to the party in the large presence of “Frankie Mangan” himself.  The Big Doctor approached slowly, elephant-like in his noiseless, rolling gait, impressive, as is an elephant, in size, in the feeling he imparted of restrained strength, of intense intelligence, masked, as in an elephant, with benevolence, and held watchfully in reserve.

He now advanced upon the scene of festivity with purpose in his manner.

“Now, ladies!  Let me tell you I’m come on a very unpopular errand!  To apply the closure!  I think you’re all sitting out here long enough for the time of year.  Remember it’s only May!”

“We’re more likely to remember it’s Mayn’t!” retorted Mrs. Whelply, who was a recognised wit, and opponent of the Big Doctor.  “Isn’t it enough for him to bully us when we’re sick, but he comes tormenting us when we’re well, too!”

Thus she appealed to her fellow-matrons, looking round upon them for support with a festive eye.

“You’ll none of you be well long, if you don’t mind yourselves!” answered, with equal spirit, the Doctor, with a quiet eye on his daughter and her attendant swains.

“Why then I have a sore throat this minute with scolding Mr. Coppinger for the nonsense he’s talking!” declared Mrs. Whelply.  “Asking me to sing a cawmic at the concert he says he’s going to have!  There’s no fear but whatever I sing will be cawmic enough!”

“I’m sure I’ll have great pleasure in cauterising you!” responded the Doctor, gallantly; “but if you’ll take my advice now, you won’t want so much of it later on!”

“I thought you were going to take me on the river,” said Tishy in a low voice to Larry, looking resentfully at her father.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Larry, quickly; “much better than the river—­we’ll go back to the house and dance!  I’ll fix it up with your father!”

“Good egg!” said Sub-Lieut.  Talbot-Lowry, with seaman-like decision, “Miss Mangan will kindly note all waltzes are reserved for use of naval officers!”