pier as they were supposed to. Mr. Liverwurst tried to sail back, but they had forgotten to put down the centreboard and the Platitude went mostly sideways. Also he did not really know how to make a landing, which always needs some skill. He banged into the swimming-float on the windward side, almost hitting some of the bathers. The boat was jammed there by the breeze. Trying to push off, the wind got into the wrong side of the sail, the boom swung over and knocked both him and Fourchette into the water. The kittens, wild with excitement, swarmed up the mast and would not come down. They clung to the gaff, yowling. Fourchette was politely pulled out by the Commodore of the club himself, which was a great honour; but her pretty foulard dress was spoiled, and she was in a horrible temper.
They drove back in a very peevish state. Fourchette was extremely angry with Donny when they got to Mineola. Donny answered her crossly, for slicing meat all day had made him rather fierce too. And the adventure cured poor Mr. Liverwurst of any desire to go on picnics. If you go into his store and say anything about picnics he will laugh heartily and say he is happier at home with his carving knife.
