The whole thing was so unexpected, so surprising, that the picnic ladies had to rub their eyes to be sure that it was not a dream; but their astonishment was increased when the woman turned to the younger one and said, “I know you are Miss Du Plessis, for I heard you called so at Bridesdale.”  Miss Du Plessis answered that she was right.  Then Matilda said, “This is all your land, and of course, the land carries the buildings with it.  I have forgotten a great many things, but I remember that, you see.  So Tillycot is yours too; besides I do not want to stay here any more.  Good-bye, I am going home to Monty.”  At first, the two ladies were afraid she was going to take the skiff away and leave them in the house, but she did not.  In spite of their entreaties, she walked quickly up the grassy slope at the back, and disappeared in the forest beyond.  “Is it not wonderful?” asked Miss Du Plessis.  “Come, Cecile, hasten back, or those poor people will be starving,” answered the more practical Mrs. Carmichael.

On their return to the skiff, the presiding matron, while Miss Du Plessis rowed, unfolded a long piece of yellow leno she had picked up in one of the rooms.  The channel was quite visible from, what may now be called, the Tillycot end, but when the passengers ducked their heads and emerged, they saw there would be difficulty in finding it from the other side.  Accordingly, Mrs. Carmichael bade her companion keep the boat steady, while she stood up, and fastened the strip of gauze to two saplings, one on either side of the opening, making a landmark visible immediately the point was passed that intercepted the picnic party from their view.  Rowing round this point, the two travellers appeared, to the astonishment of the fishers on punt and pier.  The colonel was stretched out on the grass asleep, and Marjorie, having deserted her minnows, was tickling him about the ears with a long blade, greatly enjoying his occasional slaps at the parts affected, and his muttered anathemas on the flies.

“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.”