There was one for each couple, and after the ladies had sucked the
juice they divided them and added their respective shares to their
dinners and teas. Supper came next. Again they fell to sausage-rolls,
boiled eggs, and saveloys, and countless bottles of beer were added to
those already drunk.

'I dunno 'ow many bottles of beer I've drunk--I've lost count,' said
Liza; whereat there was a general laugh.

They still had an hour before the brake was to start back, and it was
then the concertinas came in useful. They sat down on the grass, and
the concert was begun by Harry, who played a solo; then there was a
call for a song, and Jim stood up and sang that ancient ditty, 'O dem
Golden Kippers, O'. There was no shyness in the company, and Liza,
almost without being asked, gave another popular comic song. Then
there was more concertina playing, and another demand for a song. Liza
turned to Tom, who was sitting quietly by her side.

'Give us a song, old cock,' she said.

'I can't,' he answered. 'I'm not a singin' sort.' At which Blakeston
got up and offered to sing again.

'Tom is rather a soft,' said Liza to herself, 'not like that cove
Blakeston.'

They repaired to the public-house to have a few last drinks before the
brake started, and when the horn blew to warn them, rather unsteadily,
they proceeded to take their places.