Miss Snubbleston's salad, and some bread, and--could it be possible!
After so much preparation, and Mr. Bagshaw's committee of "provender" to
boot, that no one should have thought of so obvious a requisite as
bread! There would not be time to send Mr. Bagshaw to Twickenham town to
procure some, for it was getting late, and if they lost the tide, they
should be on the water till midnight, and they did not like the
appearance of the sky, which was by no means so blue as it had hitherto
been. However, the want of bread did not _much_ signify; they could make
a shift with Miss Snubbleston's biscuits and poundcakes. But Uncle John
did not come out on an excursion of pleasure to make shift; no more did
Bagshaw; no more did any of the others. There was nothing else to be
done; so where is Miss Snubbleston's basket? And where is Master
Charles? gracious! Don't be alarmed, the precious rarity is in no
danger. He was soon discovered behind a tree, whither he had dragged the
fruit and cakes, and was engaged with all his might and main, in an
endeavor, with a piece of stick, to force out an apple. In this attempt,
as it was presently seen, the interesting child had cracked a bottle,
the contents of which--merely a preparation of oil, vinegar, and mustard
for the salad--were quietly dribbling through the poundcakes, biscuits,
and fruit. Similar aspirations to those which had lately been so
cordially expressed for the Dutch pug were now most devoutly formed in
behalf of Master Charles.

"This comes of bringing their plaguy brats with them," said Uncle and
Bagshaw.

Whilst this scene was going on, Jack Richards, perceiving that the
service of the table was incomplete, bethought him of Uncle John's
silver-handled knives and forks and spoons; he felt first in one pocket,
and then in the other, then he ran down to search the boat, then he
rummaged the baskets.

"Jack, my boy," hallooed Uncle John, "don't trouble yourself, you'll
never see _that_ again."

"What, sir?"

"I could not bear the smell of it any longer, so I slyly drew it out of
your pocket, and dexterously let it fall into the deepest part of the
Thames."

And here Uncle John chuckled, and looked about him for applause.

"Bless me, sir! Don't say so--why--bless my heart--you don't
know--before we got into the boat, I put the sausage into your pocket,
and your case of cutlery into my own!"

There was a general burst of laughter against Uncle John. He turned as
pale a