adily round
the gaily decorated scaffold-pole that had been lent by Mr. Ash, the
builder. Lady Knob-Kerrick distinguished many of her tenants among the
fringe of stumbling humanity, and two of her own domestics.

The principal object of the men dancers seemed to be to kiss each girl
as she passed, and that of the girls to appear to try to avoid the
caress without actually doing so. The dance ended prematurely, there
being none of the dancers any longer capable of preserving an upright
position.

A little to the right of the maypole Lady Knob-Kerrick beheld the Rev.
Andrew McFie, who was endeavouring to give a representation of his
native sword-dance to an enthusiastic group of admirers. On his head
was a pink sunbonnet, round his waist, to represent a kilt, was tied a
girl's jacket. His trousers were tucked up above the knee. On the
ground sat a girl producing, by the simple process of holding her nose
and tapping her throat, strange piercing noises intended to represent
the bagpipes.

In another part of the meadow Mr. Grint, the chapel butcher, and an
elder of irreproachable respectability, was endeavouring to instruct a
number of girls in the intricacies of a quadrille, which, as he
informed them, he had once seen danced in Paris. It was this
exhibition of shameless abandon that decided Lady Knob-Kerrick upon
immediate action.

"Strint," she called, looking about for her companion, "Strint." But
Miss Strint was at that moment the centre of a circle of laughing,
shouting, and shrieking men and women, hesitating in her choice of the
man she should kiss.

"Thomas!"

"Yes, m'lady," replied Thomas, his eyes fixed intently upon a group of
youths and girls who were performing a species of exalted barn dance.

"Fetch Saunders and Smith; tell them to fix the fire-hose to the
hydrant nearest the meadow, and connect as many lengths as are
necessary to reach where I am standing. Quick!"

The last word was uttered in a tone that caused Thomas to wrench his
eyes away from the dancers as if he had been caught in the act of some
impropriety.

"Yes, m'lady," and he reluctantly left the scene of festivity, full of
envy and self-pity.

As Thomas disappeared round one side of the canvas screen, Dr. Little
bustled round the other. He had been detained by an important patient
who lived ten miles away. When his eyes beheld the scene before him,
he stopped as if he had been shot. He looked about in a dazed fashion.