to come. That other man, Flutey, wouldn't do at all out in the open
air."

"It shall be Blowehard," said Mr Cheesacre; and it was Blowehard. Mrs
Greenow liked to have her own way in these little things, though her
heart did lie buried.

On the morning of the picnic Mr Cheesacre came down to Montpelier
Parade with Captain Bellfield, whose linen on that occasion certainly
gave no outward sign of any quarrel between him and his washerwoman.
He was got up wonderfully, and was prepared at all points for the
day's work. He had on a pseudo-sailor's jacket, very liberally
ornamented with brass buttons, which displayed with great judgement
the exquisite shapes of his pseudo-sailor's duck trousers. Beneath
them there was a pair of very shiny patent-leather shoes, well
adapted for dancing on the sand, presuming him to be anxious of
doing so, as Venus offered to do, without leaving any footmarks. His
waistcoat was of a delicate white fabric, ornamented with very many
gilt buttons. He had bejewelled studs in his shirt, and yellow kid
gloves on his hands; having, of course, another pair in his pocket
for the necessities of the evening. His array was quite perfect, and
had stricken dismay into the heart of his friend Cheesacre, when he
joined that gentleman. He was a well-made man, nearly six feet high,
with dark hair, dark whiskers, and dark moustache, nearly black, but
of that suspicious hue which to the observant beholder seems always
to tell a tale of the hairdresser's shop. He was handsome, too, with
well-arranged features,--but carrying, perhaps, in his nose some
first symptoms of the effects of midnight amusements. Upon the whole,
however, he was a nice man to look at--for those who like to look on
nice men of that kind.

Cheesacre, too, had adopted something of a sailor's garb. He had on
a jacket of a rougher sort, coming down much lower than that of the
captain, being much looser, and perhaps somewhat more like a garment
which a possible seaman might possibly wear. But he was disgusted
with himself the moment that he saw Bellfield. His heart had been
faint, and he had not dared to ornament himself boldly as his friend
had done. "I say, Guss, you are a swell," he exclaimed. It may be
explained that Captain Bellfield had been christened Gustavus.

"I don't know much about that," said the captain; "my fellow sent me
this toggery, and said that it was the sort of thing. I'll change
with you if you like it." But Cheesacre c