“That depends whether those we invite are willing to join it,” observed Hearty.

“‘I can summon spirits from the vasty deep; but will they come, cousin?’” exclaimed Carstairs.

“Oh, yes, in these parts, often,” cried Rattler maxima; “the revenue officers constantly find them, I know.”

“Capital—capital!” ejaculated Hearty. “You must bring that out again on board the ‘Frolic.’ You deserve a pic-nic for it; it’s so original. You must consider this only as a rehearsal.”

“How kind—then it’s all settled!” exclaimed both young ladies in a breath. “There’s Mary Masthead, I know, is dying to go, and so is Mrs Topgallant, and I dare say, if Captain Carstairs presses Mrs Skyscraper, she’ll go, and the Sandons and Cardiffs, and all our set; I don’t think any will refuse.”

“Well, then, we’ve no time to lose,” we exclaimed, and off we set to beat up for recruits.

We were not, however, without our disappointments. Lady Cardiff could not go, and without a correct chaperone she could not let her daughter be of the party—the thing was utterly impossible, dreadfully incorrect, and altogether unheard of. Mrs Skyscraper was a great deal too young, and being a widow had herself to look after. If Mrs Topgallant would go, she would see about it; so we tried next to find the lady in question, but she had gone to Carisbrooke Castle, and would not be back till late. Mrs Sandon was next visited, but she had a cold; and if Lady Cardiff would not let her daughter go without a chaperone, neither could she. We by chance met Mrs Seaton with the fair Jane, looking very beautiful, but mamma never went on the water if she could help it. She could not come to the island without doing so; but once safe there, she would not set her foot in a boat till she had to go away again. Sooth to say, that was not surprising; the good dame was unsuited by her figure for locomotion. Every thing depended on Mrs Topgallant; never was she in so much request. The gentlemen being able to come without chaperones, more readily promised to be present. We fell in with Sir Francis Futtock, Lord Lorimer, Harry Loring, and young Flareup, and a young Oxonian, who had lately taken orders, and created a great sensation among the more sensitive portion of his audience by his exquisite preaching, and the unction by which he privately recommended auricular confession and penance.

The Rev. Frederick Fairfax was a pink-faced young man, and had naturally a round, good-natured countenance, but by dint of shaving his whiskers, elongating his face, and wearing a white cravat without gills, and a stand-up collar to his coat, he contrived to present a no bad imitation of a Jesuit priest. The Miss Rattlers called him the Paragon Puseyite, or the PP, which they said would stand as well for parish priest. How Hearty came to invite him I don’t know, for he detested the silly clique to whom the youth had attached himself. We had just left the young gentleman when we met the two merry little Miss Masons. At first they could not possibly go, because they had no chaperone; but when they heard that the Rev. Frederick was to be of the party, all their scruples vanished. With such a pastor they might go anywhere. They had only lately been bitten, but had ever since diligently applied themselves to the study of the “Tracts of the Times;” and though not a word did they understand of those works (which was not surprising by the by), they perceived that the Rev. Fred’s voice was very melodious, that he chanted to admiration, and looked so pious that they could not be wrong in following his advice. At last the hearts of all were made glad by the appearance of Mrs Topgallant, who, without much persuasion, undertook to chaperone as many young ladies as were committed to her charge.