“We’ll have a picnic to-morrow,” said Napoleon. “The boat is going to take on a large lot of cotton just below Helena; and we will order the steward to prepare a picnic dinner, and we will have a dance, as well as a dinner.”
Ivanhoe bit his lip with vexation as he returned to his party no wiser than when he left it.
“Hold your hand over my mouth, else I shall be compelled to laugh out,” said the queen to her first maid of honor.
“Pray, don’t laugh,” cried the young lady; “it would cause them to suspect something.”
“What did you learn about the murder?” inquired the queen of Scots, as Ivanhoe returned to his seat.
“Nothing,” was the solemn reply. “They all seem to be an ill-mannered, ungenteel crew, and, for my part, I am inclined to think they have been making sport of us.”
“I see through it all,” said Ingomar gravely. “They are offended because we did not invite them to mingle with us. For my part, I am unwilling to notice such silly conduct. I like amusement well enough, but it must be such as sensible people may engage in. Allow me to suggest that we move to another place and inaugurate a regular systematic plan to while away our idle moments.”
The suggestion was unanimously concurred in, and the entire party went to the front end of the boat, and soon were seated, leaving the other party overwhelmed with mortification.
“That is too bad!” exclaimed Napoleon; “we had won the victory, and lost it by all grinning at once. They have evidently seen our hand, and we have lost the game.”
“Suppose we invite the other party to join us,” said Ingomar. “If we expect to enjoy our trip, it would be advisable to dispense with the rigid rules of decorum and become acquainted with each other.”