Mrs. Langrishe—there was a long-drawn breath of expectancy, as she read out her own name, “Well, she would provide the appointments, table-cloths, and napkins, plates, knives and forks, bread, salad—and water.” There was a pause, and she continued impressively—
“It was not every one who would care to risk their nice things” (she would borrow from Manockjee, the Parsee shop); “but she would venture,” and her meek coadjutors accepted her contribution just as gratefully as Mrs. Brande’s champagne and ham. It was one of her usual master strokes, and the picnic would cost her nothing, beyond the use of some house linen and a few loaves of bread.
All the station were to be invited; the place selected was five miles from Shirani; the guests were to assemble at Mrs. Langrishe’s house. With her usual ability, she took the entire honours upon herself, and got the whole credit of the entertainment in anticipation. Of course it was to be a Noah’s Ark affair.
The company met at half-past eleven at “St. Germain’s” (Major Langrishe’s Bungalow), and Mrs. Brande, who was supplying the most expensive portion of the feast, felt it a little hard to be received as a guest by the woman who was only bringing crockery and table-cloths,—indeed all the hostesses were secretly restive and displeased. The ladies dipped their hands into a basket and each drew out a man’s name (their fate) on a slip of paper, and although Lalla believed that she had thrust him well down to the bottom—with a little twist in the paper, so that she could recognize it herself—Honor drew the prize, in the shape of Sir Gloster Sandilands, to that gentleman’s transparent delight. Subsequently Honor offered to exchange him, or draw again, when Lalla sharply assured her that “there was some mistake—that his name had been written twice, and that she had also drawn the baronet.” Finally it was arranged that Honor and Lalla should divide—Honor to ride to the picnic with Mr. Jervis, and Lalla with Sir Gloster, and to exchange cavaliers on the return journey. Thus the affair was amicably settled. Honor would have been thankful to have avoided the baronet altogether: she had more than a dim idea that he liked her, and he was always talking to her about his place at home, and his mother, and saying how much he wished that he could introduce her to both. Mrs. Brande could not complain that he did not call: on one pretext or other, he came every day, bringing a book, or a paper, or looking in to ask the name of some wild flower, or for a cup of tea, or without any excuse at all, but simply to sit and stare at Honor Gordon.
Mrs. Brande was not quite such a blind bat as some people supposed. This possible match had some advantages. It would all but be the death of Mrs. Langrishe! her niece would be Lady Sandilands; but, on the other hand, she could not bear to lose Honor! Shirani had its eyes wide open also, and Mrs. Daubeny had countermanded her daughter’s two new dresses.
At last the cortège set out for the scene of their next meal, some riding, some on foot, many ladies in dandies. The distance was five miles, through leafy dells, green glades, and steep paths cut out through the forest. Captain Waring had drawn the heiress, and was happy; Sir Gloster was with Lalla, who was radiant. There was a considerable distance between some couples, whilst others kept as close together as a girls’ school.
“I did not know that dogs were invited to picnics!” exclaimed a querulous voice from a dandy, coming up behind Miss Gordon, Mr. Jervis, and Ben.
“Ben had a special card of invitation all to himself, Mrs. Dashwood,” replied his owner.
“Well, I trust he is the only one of his species that has been thus honoured, and that it is not going to be a precedent.”
“Don’t you like dogs?” inquired Jervis.