g--"

"That sort of sympathy and delicacy of feeling is all very fine, Major;
but I tell you plainly that if it leads to your refusing to give the
poor girl any lunch she won't appreciate it."

"Couldn't you land the luncheon basket and then come back here?"

"Certainly not. Then _I_ should get no luncheon. I don't shrink from
sacrifice in a good cause, Major, whenever sacrifice is necessary; but
I see no point in starving myself merely to satisfy your ridiculous
ideas of chivalry."

"Well, then, you go and give them their lunch, and leave me here."

"That's the worst plan you've suggested yet," said Meldon. "If I go
without you I shall be a damper on the whole proceedings. A third
person on these occasions always finds the greatest difficulty in not
being in the way, whereas if you come we can stroll off together after
lunch under pretext of searching for lobsters or something of that
kind, and leave the happy couple together."

"Happy couple!" said the Major. "They look it."

"Get into the punt at once," said Meldon, "and don't try to be
sarcastic. Nothing is less becoming to you. Your proper part in life
is that of the sober, well-intentioned, somewhat thick-headed, bachelor
uncle. You do that excellently; but the moment you try to be clever
you give yourself away piteously."

"Your own part, I suppose, J. J., is that of irresponsible buffoon."

"No; it's not. What I do best is just what I'm doing--arranging things
for other people, so that difficulties and unpleasantness disappear,
and life looks bright again."

Major Kent had provided an excellent luncheon for the party, and Miss
King had revived rapidly since she landed. She allowed herself to be
persuaded to drink some weak whisky and water. Afterwards she ate cold
chicken with a good appetite. Poor Simpkins was less fortunate. He
insisted on wearing his damp hat, and could not be persuaded to eat
anything except biscuits. Meldon, who was most anxious to restore him
to a condition of vigour, pressed a tomato on him; but the result was
unfortunate. After eating half of it, Simpkins turned his back even on
the biscuit tin. He refused to smoke after lunch, although the Major
and Meldon lit their pipes in an encouraging way quite close to him,
and Miss King appeared to find pleasure in a cigarette. The situation
was not promising; but Meldon was a man of unquenchable hope. Seizing
a moment when Miss King was looking in another direction,