unnatural ill-humours and chagrin.

On Saturday there arrived a rollicking reading-party of students from
Oxford with a coach. I explained my painful situation and experiences,
and informed them that they made the eighth party I had had to repulse.

They were merry, good-humoured fellows, and they lay flat on my patch of
lawn and fairly screamed with delight at the cuteness of Mr. Joseph
Scorer. "He was born an Oxford gyp," they averred.

[Illustration: "THEY SCREAMED WITH DELIGHT AT THE CUTENESS OF MR.
SCORER."]

They enjoyed the affair so much that I could hardly get rid of them. My
wife gave them tea and cakes, and they sat and smoked, and laughed, and
joked, till the stars were up, and then they got a carriage and drove
off to the hotel, after promising to come up every day about noon to
assist me in my hateful task of holding the fort against all comers.

And they did it, too, and enjoyed it immensely.

On the pier, on Sunday morning after church, we met at intervals all the
families who ought to have been stopping in Sandybank Cottage.

The irate first old gentleman stopped me to ask, "Well, how are you
getting on? Say, that was the nastiest trick I ever was served. If I
could find Mr. Scorer I would jolly well like to wring his nasty little
neck."

I said I felt that way myself, but I feared there was not much chance of
laying hands on it.

I told him I had now had to send away eight different parties who all
claimed the cottage, and at that he felt very much better.

My lawyer friend was just passing, and I introduced him to the old
gentleman, and, catching sight of my young friends from Oxford, I
introduced them all to one another, and they all had a very lively time
together, and enjoyed themselves extremely.

On Monday I bethought me to go to the station, and acquaint the cabmen
with the true state of matters, and beg them not to bring any more
parties to Sandybank Cottage. They listened with broad grins to all I
had to say, but absolutely refused to comply with my wishes. It all
meant double fares for them, and all was grist that came to their mills,
and it wasn't in human nature to refuse a fare when it was offered, and
in fact any such refusal might invalidate their licences, and would
certainly lose them their places. So, much as they regretted the
annoyance it caused me, they felt in duty bound to go on dumping
would-be tenants and their baggage on my front lawn as fast as they came
along.