The Macleods came early, since Garth’s impatience was a thing not to be gainsaid.  He had never seen a regatta, and the stories told him by the young O’Connors had set him dreaming of nothing else for weeks past. Soon after breakfast he arrayed himself, emerging from his room shining and speckless in white duck, with white sand-shoes and bare brown legs, and a white felt hat held in readiness.  After which, his attitude began with sublime patience, which collapsed after a time and merged into trenchant inquiries as to why people couldn’t be ready as soon as he was, and lugubrious certainty that they were missing all the best of the fun.  Eventually they found themselves driving into the township quite an hour earlier than they had thought of starting, while Horrors, on Jane, jogged in the rear, and wondered how soon he might begin to eat the enormous packet of lunch with which he had been provided.