The Squire said he would join us.  I expect his wife rather bored the old gentleman.  We all sauntered up to the little crush of people who were listening (or not listening) to the discordant sounds of the German band.  Here we found the whole tribe of Bankes’ and the two Irish captains, one standing in front of each beautiful Miss Bankes; and a little further removed from this party were Colonel and Mrs. and Miss Bagshaw, with the doctor’s son.  Above the cliff, on a slope of grass, lay the young artist, smoking his pipe and enjoying the scenery.

“I hope you intend to honour the Assembly Wooms with your pwesence this evening,” drawled Captain Kelly to the elder Miss Bankes—­the dark one with the single curl hanging down her back.  Her sister wore two light ones, and it puzzled us very much to account for the difference in number, and even in colour, for the complexions were the same.  Was Glenville justified in surmising that the art of the contrivance was to prove that the curls were natural and indigenous, for if false, he said, surely they would be expected to wear two or one each.

“My sister and I certainly intend going this evening,” replied the young lady, “but really I hear they are very dull affairs.”

“They will be so no longer,” said he.

“Well, I suppose we must do something in this dreadful little place to keep up our spirits.”

“Yes, I must own it is very dull here, and I certainly should not have come had not a little bird told me at Mrs. Cameron’s dance who was coming here,” said the Captain, with a languishing air.

“I am sure I said nothing about it,” said Miss Bankes, poutingly.

“Beauty attracts like a magnet, Miss Bankes, and you must not be angry with a poor fellow for what can’t be helped.”

“Very well, now you are come, you must be very good, and keep us all amused.”

“I will endeavour to do my best,” said the gallant soldier.

“Bagshaw, come here!” shouted Mrs. Bagshaw right athwart the parade, startling several of the performers in the band, and drawing all eyes towards her.  “Bagshaw, behave yourself like a gentleman.  Don’t leave me, sir; I should be ashamed to let the people see me following that woman.  It’s disgraceful, mean, and disgusting.”

Bagshaw came back, looking ridiculous.  He hated to look ridiculous, as who does not?  He approached his wife, and said in a low, but angry tone, “You are making a fool of yourself; the people will think you are mad; and they are not far wrong, as I have known to my cost this twenty years.”

Porkington, wife, and drag had just passed up the parade.

“I saw you, I tell you I saw you,” she went on excitedly.  “You were sneaking away from my side—­you know you were.  Don’t laugh at me, Mr. Bagshaw, for I won’t have it.  I don’t care who hears me,” she cried in a louder voice, “all the world shall hear how I am treated.”