An impromptu circus, fox and geese, and an amicable game of croquet, finished the afternoon. At sunset the tent was struck, hampers packed, wickets pulled up, boats loaded, and the whole party floated down the river, singing at the tops of their voices. Ned, getting sentimental, warbled a serenade with the pensive refrain⁠—

“Alone, alone, ah! woe, alone,”

“Alone, alone, ah! woe, alone,”

and at the lines⁠—

“We each are young, we each have a heart,

Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart?”

“We each are young, we each have a heart, Oh, why should we stand thus coldly apart?”