“Oh, you’d better put the horses up at the stables, and get a man to help you with the hampers, and we’ll walk on to the wood.  You know where I generally have luncheon.”

“Very well, sir!” said the man, touching his hat with his whip and stopping at the old-fashioned inn in the village.

We were all very glad to stretch our legs after the long ride, and having had some lemonade and fruit at a little shop in the High Street, we quite enjoyed the walk up to the wood.

Here under the trees in a beautiful spot we sat down to wait for the men with the hampers.

After waiting for some time with growing impatience, our coachman turned up with a rueful face.

“There ain’t no hamper, sir,” he said.

“What?” I exclaimed.  “No hamper!  What do you mean?”

“There ain’t no hamper in the trap, sir.  I didn’t have it up in front, so I thought you had it in with you.  Do you think it’s fallen out, sir?”

“By Jove, sir!” cried Lionel suddenly, “it’s my fault.  You told me to see that the man put the hampers on in front, and I clean forgot all about it.”

If it hadn’t been such a serious matter it would have been highly amusing to watch the blank dismay depicted on every face on hearing this disastrous news.

“What on earth are we to do?” exclaimed Dick, with almost tragic concern.

“There’s only one thing to be done, I suppose,” said I resignedly, after sending the man away; “we shall have to return to the village and have our luncheon at the inn.”

“It won’t be a picnic at all then,” pouted Lady Betty ruefully.

Shin Shira was the only one who did not seem distressed about the matter.  He had seated himself cross-legged on the ground under one of the old Beeches, and was slowly turning over the leaves of the little yellow book fastened to his belt with a golden chain, which he always wore.

“I think I can be of some assistance to you here,” said he, getting up after a time and coming towards me.  “Has anybody some paper and a pencil?”

[Illustration]

This seemed a strange request at such a moment, but between us we managed to find what he asked for.

The Dwarf suddenly tore the paper into seven parts, handing us each one and keeping one for himself.

“Now,” said he, “each of you write on the piece of paper the name of something you would wish for luncheon.”

He handed me the pencil first, and just for fun I wrote “Lobster salad.”

Marjorie wrote “Game pie.”

Dick thought that “Pies and tarts and plenty of them” was a suitable thing to ask for.

Lionel could imagine nothing more to be desired than “Ham and tongue sandwiches.”

Lady Betty wanted “Fruit and nuts,” and Fidge, after various painful attempts, wrote “Something nice to drink.”

Shin Shira read them out one by one.