to 'shy' sticks in the contest for
cocoa-nuts, behold your object was a wooden model of the treacherous
Afghan or the base African. If you took up the mallet to smite upon a
spring and make proof of how far you could send a ball flying upwards,
your blow descended upon the head of some other recent foeman. Try your
fist at the indicator of muscularity, and with zeal you smote full in
the stomach of a guy made to represent a Russian. If you essayed the
pop-gun, the mark set you was on the flank of a wooden donkey, so
contrived that it would kick when hit in the true spot. What a joy to
observe the tendency of all these diversions! How characteristic of a
high-spirited people that nowhere could be found any amusement
appealing to the mere mind, or calculated to effeminate by encouraging
a love of beauty.

Bob had a sovereign to get rid of. He shied for cocoa-nuts, he swung in
the boat with Pennyloaf, he rode with her on the whirligigs. When they
were choked, and whitened from head to foot, with dust, it was natural
to seek the nearest refreshment-booth. Bob had some half-dozen male and
female acquaintances clustered about him by now; of course. He must
celebrate the occasion by entertaining all of them. Consumed with
thirst, he began to drink without counting the glasses. Pennyloaf
plucked at his elbow, but Bob was beginning to feel that he must
display spirit. Because he was married, that was no reason for his
relinquishing the claims to leadership in gallantry which had always
been recognised. Hollo! Here was Suke Jollop! She had just quarrelled
with Clem, and had been searching for the hostile camp. 'Have a drink,
Suke!' cried Bob, when he heard her acrimonious charges against Clem
and Jack. A pretty girl, Suke, and with a hat which made itself proudly
manifest a quarter of a mile away. Drink! of course she would drink;
that thirsty she could almost drop! Bob enjoyed this secession from the
enemy. He knew Suke's old fondness for him, and began to play upon it.
Elated with beer and vanity, he no longer paid the least attention to
Pennyloaf's remonstrances; nay, he at length bade her 'hold her
bloomin' row!' Pennyloaf had a tear in her eye; she looked fiercely at
Miss Jollop.

The day wore on. For utter weariness Pennyloaf was constrained to beg
that they might go into the 'Paliss' and find a shadowed seat. Her tone
revived tenderness in Bob; again he became gracious, devoted; he
promised that not another glass of bee