"Look here, how much longer do we drag on?" Collins demanded furiously of Kathleen.
"Till we get stopped, I suppose. Is Mrs. Worley making for any special spot?"
"Dunno. But I'm sick of lugging these messy things; the juice is all running out. I should like to know what the other fellows are carrying!" He let fall his two bags of raspberries and gooseberries with a squish on to the grass.
"This place will do as well as any," Kathleen said; and dumped down the enormous jam-jar of which she had previously relieved her perspiring comrade. "There's a farm over there where we can get the hot water."
They sat down to wait till the others should arrive. After about ten minutes, Lulu strayed that way.
"Naughty!" shaking her forefinger at them; "we don't mind losing you, but we do mind going without the fruit."
"We thought this would be a good place for the picnic."
"Oh, but the others have found a much better place, with a sort of raised hump for a table. Do come along; it's no fun unless we all stick together. Only we can't find Fred and the kettle——"
The sort of raised hump turned out to be an ant-hill.... And then a deputation wandered towards the shady bit of camping-ground described by Kathleen and Jim. Meanwhile, Fred Worley came up with enthusiastic descriptions of a paradise for picnickers! he had left the sandwiches to mark it theirs. So they all picked up their loads, and collected each other, and followed him ... and he couldn't find either the paradise or the sandwiches.
Old Mrs. Kirby complained that she was thirsty.