Then he closed his eyes and looked again. Finally he saw Lady
Knob-Kerrick, and hurried across to her.

"Dear me, dear me!" he fussed. "Whatever does this mean? Is everybody
mad?"

"Either that or intoxicated, doctor. I'm not a medical man. I've sent
for my fire-hose." There was a note of grim malevolence in Lady
Knob-Kerrick's voice.

"Your fire-hose? I--I don't understand!" The doctor removed his
panama and mopped his forehead with a large handkerchief.

"You will when it comes," was the reply.

"Dear me, dear me!" broke out the alarmed doctor; "but surely you're
not----"

"I am," interrupted Lady Knob-Kerrick. "I most certainly am. It's my
meadow."

"Dear me! I must enquire into this. Dear me!" And the doctor trotted
off in the direction of the maypole. The first object he encountered
was the prostrate form of the vicar, who lay under the shadow of a
refreshment-stall, breathing heavily. The doctor shook him.

"Slocum," he called. "Slocum!"

"Goo' fellow tha'," was the mumbled response. "Make him my curate. Go
'way."

"Good God!" ejaculated the doctor. "He's drunk. They're all drunk.
What a scandal."

He sat down beside the vicar, trying to think. He was stunned.
Eventually he was aroused from his torpor of despair by a carelessly
flung cokernut hitting him sharply on the elbow. He looked round
quickly to admonish the culprit. At that moment he caught sight of the
Rev. Andrew McFie arm-in-arm with Mr. Wace, the vicar's churchwarden,
singing at the top of their voices, "Who's your Lady Friend?" Mr.
McFie's contribution was limited to a vigorous but tuneless drone. He
was obviously unacquainted with either the melody or the words, but was
anxious to be convivial. He also threw in a rather unsteady sort of
dance. Mr. Wace himself seemed to know only about two lines of the
song, and even in this there were gaps.

"Shisssssssssssh!" The two roysterers were on their backs gasping and
choking beneath a deluge of water. Lady Knob-Kerrick's hose had
arrived, and in the steady hands of Saunders, the head-gardener, seemed
likely to bring the Temperance Fete to a dramatic conclusion.

"A water-spout!" mumbled Mr. Wace vacuously.

"Water spout!" cried Mr. McFie. "It's that red-headed carlin wi' the
hose."

With a yell of rage he sprang to his feet and dashed at Saunders. Lady
Knob-Kerrick screamed, Dr. Little uttered a plaintive "Dear me!"
Saunders stood as if petrified, clingin