“I should care more for Miss Halbert’s society if she did not say such unjustifiable things.”

“Cecile,” called the young lady, “I want to change escorts with you; I like pleasant society.”

The dominie felt as if a big school-girl had declined to receive a reprimand from the principal, and coloured with vexation, but Miss Du Plessis calmly turned and said:  “If Mr. Wilkinson is tired of you already, Fanny, I suppose I must send Mr. Coristine to comfort you,” whereat Mr. Errol and his companion exchanged a smile.

“Did the villain shoot Wordsworth at you, Miss Halbert, or was it Hans Breitmann in the original, or a Spanish cantinella, or some such rubbish?  If I was Miss Du Plessis I’d wear a signboard over my ears, ’No poetical rubbish shot here;’ perhaps that might fix him.”

“Cecile is sentimental:  she dotes on poetry.”

“Pardon me for saying I don’t believe it.  I offered to recite my original poem on the Grinstun man to her, and she didn’t seem to want to hear it.”

“How ungrateful and unsympathetic!  You will favour me with it, will you not?”

“With the greatest pleasure in the world.  You know it’s awful balderdash, but here goes.”

The original poem was recited with appropriate gestures, intended to imitate the walk of the hero of the piece and his various features.  The people in front turned their heads to look at the performance and take in the words.  Not to laugh was almost an impossibility, but the dominie succeeded in doing the impossible, and frowned heavily.  He felt that his unworthy friend was bringing disgrace upon the causes of poetry and pedestrianism.  When her laughter subsided, Miss Halbert said:  “There is one thing I want to ask you seriously, Mr. Coristine.”  “Name it,” he answered, “even to the half of my fortune.”  “It is to look after papa, and see that he does not expose himself too much to danger.  I asked Mr. Perrowne too, but he is with the horsemen, you know.”  This last was said with a peculiarly arch smile, which convinced the lawyer that Perrowne was in deeper than was generally suspected.  The first thought that followed in Coristine’s mind was what awful cheek he had been guilty of in following Perrowne’s precedent in drop the handkerchief.  He managed, however, to assure the lady that he would do his best to watch over the safety of her father and Squire Carruthers, the latter words being spoken loud enough for Miss Carmichael to hear.  When the post-office was reached Mr. Bangs dismounted, was ready to receive the ladies; and the three escorts, shaking hands warmly with each of their fair companions, entered the remaining waggon and drove away, the buts of their firearms rattling on the floor, and the suspended bludgeons playfully flogging their shoulders.