“Prime! by Jove!”—­shouted Mr. Crobble—­“But, I say, Wallis—­you should have sent her a ‘duck’ too, as a symbolical memorial of her accident!”

CHAPTER X.—­The Pic-Nic.

—­had just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a cow.

“People should never undertake to do a thing they don’t perfectly understand,” remarked Mr. Crobble, “they’re sure to make fools o’ themselves in the end.  There’s Tom Davis, (you know Tom Davis?) he’s always putting his notions into people’s heads, and turning the laugh against ’em.  If there’s a ditch in the way, he’s sure to dare some of his companions to leap it, before he overs it himself; if he finds it safe, away he springs like a greyhound.”

“Exactly him, I know him,” replied Mr. Timmis; “that’s what he calls learning to shave upon other people’s chins!”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Mr. Wallis.

“He’s a very devil,” continued Mr. Crobble; “always proposing some fun or other:  Pic-nics are his delight; but he always leaves others to bring the grub, and brings nothing but himself.  I hate Pic-nics, squatting in the grass don’t suit me at all; when once down, I find it no easy matter to get up again, I can tell you.”

Hereupon there was a general laugh.

“Talking of Pic-nics,” said Mr. Timmis. “reminds me of one that was held the other day in a meadow, on the banks of the Lea.  The party, consisting of ladies only, and a little boy, had just spread out their prog on a clean table-cloth, when they were alarmed by the approach of a cow.  They were presently on their pins, (cow’d, of course,) and sheered off to a respectful distance, while the cow walked leisurely over the table-cloth, smelling the materials of the feast, and popp’d her cloven foot plump into a currant and raspberry pie! and they had a precious deal of trouble to draw her off; for, as Tom Davis said, there were some veal-patties there, which were, no doubt, made out of one of her calves; and in her maternal solicitude, she completely demolished the plates and dishes, leaving the affrighted party nothing more than the broken victuals.”

“What a lark!” exclaimed Mr. Crobble; “I would have given a guinea to have witnessed the fun.  That cow was a trojan!”

“A star in the milky way,” cried Mr. Wallis.

We now approached the ‘Plough;’ and Mr. Crobble having ‘satisfied’ the boatman, Mr. Wallis gave me half-a-crown, and bade me make the best of my way home.  I pocketed the money, and resolved to ‘go on the highway,’ and trudge on foot.

“Andrew,” said my worthy patron, “now don’t go and make a beast of yourself, but walk straight home.”

“Andrew,” said Mr. Wallis, imitating his friend’s tone of admonition; “if any body asks you to treat ’em, bolt; if any body offers to treat you, retreat!”