What a glorious day it was, and what spirits it put everybody in! The sun shone with an intensity¹ almost torrid; the spot on which they had landed was green and bright, like a slice out of the realms of Fairy-land. No zephyr² dared to disturb the leaves or the glassy water; great clouds hung in the bright blue sky—rotund, fat, and heavy, like mountains of wool or butter. Everything in nature seemed to have gone to sleep at noon, as if Spanish principles had suddenly imbued³ the universe.

 

And what a business they had, to be sure, with the spreading of the viands⁴ and the kindling⁵ of the fire! The latter was the first duty. Hector said he would undertake it, but after attempting to light it with damp sticks he gave it up and assisted the ladies to lay the cloth on the grass. Then George and Fred got the fire to kindle⁶, and Mr Sudberry, in attempting to mend it, burnt his fingers and put it out; whereupon McAllister came to his rescue and got it to blaze in right earnest. Jacky thereafter tried to jump over it, fell into it, and was saved from premature⁷ destruction by being plucked out and quenched⁸ before having received any further damage than the singeing⁹ of his hair and eyelashes. He was thus rendered a little more hideous¹⁰ and impish-like than Nature had intended him to be.

 

Jacky happened to be particularly bad that day. Not only was he more bent

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