of a drill.  The third figure sustained the picnic character of the group, for he was repacking a hamper.  He stood suddenly erect as we drew near, and a very ill-looking person he was, low-browed, square-chinned, and with a broad, broken nose.  He wore gaiters, and was a little bandy, very broad, and had a closely-cropped bullet head, and deep-set little eyes.  The moment I saw him, I beheld the living type of the burglars and bruisers whom I had so often beheld with a kind of scepticism in Punch.  He stood over his hamper and scowled sharply at us for a moment; then with the point of his foot he jerked a little fur cap that lay on the ground into his hand, drew it tight over his lowering brows, and called to his companions, just as we passed him—­’Hallo! mister.  How’s this?’

‘All right,’ said the tall person in the white great-coat, who, as he answered, shook his shorter companion by the arm, I thought angrily.

This shorter companion turned about.  He had a muffler loose about his neck and chin.  I thought he seemed shy and irresolute, and the tall man gave him a great jolt with his elbow, which made him stagger, and I fancied a little angry, for he said, as it seemed, a sulky word or two.

The gentleman in the white surtout, however, standing direct in our way, raised his hat with a mock salutation, placing his hand on his breast, and forthwith began to advance with an insolent grin and an air of tipsy frolic.

’Jist in time, ladies; five minutes more and we’d a bin off.  Thankee, Mrs. Mouser, ma’am, for the honour of the meetin’, and more particular for the pleasure of making your young lady’s acquaintance—­niece, ma’am? daughter, ma’am? granddaughter, by Jove, is it?  Hallo! there, mild ’n, I say, stop packin’.’  This was to the ill-favoured person with the broken nose.  ’Bring us a couple o’ glasses and a bottle o’ curacoa; what are you fear’d on, my dear? this is Lord Lollipop, here, a reg’lar charmer, wouldn’t hurt a fly, hey Lolly?  Isn’t he pretty, Miss? and I’m Sir Simon Sugarstick—­so called after old Sir Simon, ma’am; and I’m so tall and straight, Miss, and slim—­ain’t I? and ever so sweet, my honey, when you come to know me, just like a sugarstick; ain’t I, Lolly, boy?’

‘I’m Miss Ruthyn, tell them, Madame,’ I said, stamping on the ground, and very much frightened.

‘Be quaite, Maud.  If you are angry, they will hurt us; leave me to speak,’ whispered the gouvernante.

All this time they were approaching from separate points.  I glanced back, and saw the ruffianly-looking man within a yard or two, with his arm raised and one finger up, telegraphing, as it seemed, to the gentlemen in front.

‘Be quaite, Maud,’ whispered Madame, with an awful adjuration, which I do not care to set down.  ’They are teepsy; don’t seem ‘fraid.’

I was afraid—­terrified.  The circle had now so narrowed that they might have placed their hands on my shoulders.