is devoted to assisting at picnics and tea-drinkings, telling
fortunes, and selling photographs. White cloths were spread upon the
short sweet turf, and piles of bread-and-butter, cake and buns, invited
the attention of the flies.

Presently arose the thrilling melody of a choral grace, with the sweet
embellishment of a strong Hampshire accent. And then, with a swoop as
of eagles on their quarry, the school-children came down upon the
mountains of bread-and-butter, and ate their way manfully to the buns
and cake.

Violet had never been happier since her return to Hampshire than she
felt that sunny afternoon, as she moved quickly about, ministering to
these juvenile devourers. The sight of their somewhat bovine
contentment took her thoughts away from her own cares and losses; and
presently, when the banquet was concluded--a conclusion only arrived at
by the total consumption of everything provided, whereby the
hungry-eyed gipsy attendants sunk into despondency--Vixen constituted
herself Lord of Misrule, and led off a noisy procession in the
time-honoured game of Oranges and Lemons, which entertainment continued
till the school-children were in a high fever. After this they had Kiss
in the Ring; Vixen only stipulating, before she began, that nobody
should presume to drop the handkerchief before her. Then came
Touchwood--a game charmingly adapted to that wooded valley, where the
trees looked as if they had been planted at convenient distances on
purpose for this juvenile sport.

"Oh, I am so tired," cried Violet at last, when church clocks--all out
of earshot in this deep valley--were striking eight, and the low sun
was golden on the silvery beech-boles, and the quiet half-hidden
water-pools under the trees yonder; "I really don't think I can have
anything to do with the next game."

"Oh, if you please, miss," cried twenty shrill young voices, "oh, if
you please, miss, we couldn't play without you--you're the best on us!"

This soothing flattery had its effect.

"Oh, but I really don't think I can do more than start you," sighed
Vixen, flushed and breathless, "what is it to be?"

"Blindman's Buff," roared the boys.

"Hunt the Slipper," screamed the girls.

"Oh, Blindman's Buff is best," said Vixen. "This little wood is a
splendid place for Blindman's Buff. But mind, I shall only start you.
Now then, who's to be Blindman?"

Mr. Scobel volunteered. He had been a tranquil spectator of the sports
hitherto; but thi