And then, as they went, came the normal shower of rice, to be picked up in the course of the next hour by the vicarage fowls, and not by the London beggars, and the air was darkened by a storm of old shoes.  In London, white satin slippers are the fashion.  But Buston and Buntingford combined could not afford enough of such missiles; and from the hands of the boys black shoes, and boots too, were thrown freely.  “There go my best pair,” said one of the boys, as the chariot was driven off, “and I don’t mean to let them lie there.”  Then the boots were recovered and taken up to the bedroom.

Now that Molly was gone, Harry’s affairs became paramount at Buston.  After all, Harry was of superior importance to Molly, though those chimneys at Buntingford could probably give a better income than the acres belonging to the park.  But Harry was to be the future Prosper of the county; to assume at some future time the family name; and there was undoubtedly present to them all at the parsonage a feeling that Harry Annesley Prosper would loom in future years a bigger squire than the parish had ever known before.  He had got a fellowship, which no Prosper had ever done; and he had the look and tone of a man who had lived in London, which had never belonged to the Prospers generally.  And he was to bring a wife, with a good fortune, and one of whom a reputation for many charms had preceded her.  And Harry, having been somewhat under a cloud for the last six months, was now emerging from it brighter than ever.  Even Uncle Prosper could not do without him.  That terrible Miss Thoroughbung had thrown a gloom over Buston Hall which could only be removed, as the squire himself had felt, by the coming of the natural heir.  Harry was indispensable, and was no longer felt by any one to be a burden.

It was now the end of March.  Old Mr. Scarborough was dead and buried, and Mountjoy was living at Tretton.  Nothing had been heard of his coming up to London.  No rushing to the card-tables had been announced.  That there were to be some terrible internecine law contests between him and Augustus had been declared in many circles, but of this nothing was known at the Buston Rectory.  Harry had been one day at Cheltenham, and had been allowed to spend the best part of an hour with his sweetheart; but this permission had been given on the understanding that he was not to come again, and now for a month he had abstained.  Then had come his uncle’s offer, that generous offer under which Harry was to bring his wife to Buston Hall, and live there during half the year, and to receive an increased allowance for his maintenance during the other half.  As he thought of his ways and means he fancied that they would be almost rich.  She would have four hundred a year, and he as much; and an established home would be provided for them.  Of all these good things he had written to Florence, but had not yet seen her since the offer had been made.  Her answer had not been as propitious as it might be, and it was absolutely necessary that he should go down to Cheltenham and settle things.