Raspberry-Picking

It was when Margot had reached the marmalade stage, and George Elgood, a
persistent late-comer, was setting to work on his ham and eggs, that the
Chieftain fired the first gun of the assault.

"When are you going to invite us all to come up and have tea with you in
your fairy dell, George?" he demanded suddenly. "What do you think of
this fellow, Mrs Macalister, finding a veritable little heaven below,
and keeping it to himself all this time? There's an easy ascent by the
head of the glen for those who object to the steeper climb; there's
shade, and water and everything that the most exacting person could want
for an ideal picnic. To be in the country on a day like this, and not
to go for a picnic seems to me a deliberate waste of opportunity, What
about this afternoon, eh? That will suit you as well as any other time,
I presume?"

To say that the Editor appeared surprised by this sudden threatening of
his solitude, would be to state the case too mildly. He looked
absolutely stunned with astonishment, and his predicament was all the
more enhanced by the fact that already murmurs of assent and
anticipation welcomed the idea from his neighbours to right and to left.
He stared incredulously into his brother's face, wrinkled his brow, and
stammered out a laboured excuse.

"I'm afraid I-- The dell is in no sense my property--No doubt it would
make a capital site for a picnic, but I--I have no right to pose as
host!"