“That reminds me of a man with a hump, though there wasn’t much heart to him,” said Coristine, his mouth full of fruit.  “He undertook to write on Canada after spending a month here.  He said the Canadians have no fruit but a very inferior raspberry, and that they actually sell bilberries in the shops.  As a further proof of their destitution, he was told that haws and acorns are exposed for sale in the Montreal markets.  Such a country, he said, is no place for a refined Englishman.  I don’t wonder my countrymen rise up against the English.”

“You forget, Corry, that I am English, and proud of my descent from the Saxon Count Witikind.”

“Beg your pardon, Wilks, but you’re a good Englishman, and I never dreamt your progenitor was that awful heathen:—­

     Save us, St. Mary, from flood and from fire,
     From famine and pest, and Count Witikind’s ire.

As the Englishmen said, there is no need to hask ’ow the hell got into your name.”

“Corry, this is most unseemly.  I wonder you are not ashamed to speak thus, with that innocent dog beside you.”

“O, dad, he’s heard worse things than that; haven’t you now, Muggins?  Trust him to live with a cad of a Grinstun man, and not to pick up bad language.”

“Ullo, there, you dog-stealers!” fell upon the ears of the berry-pickers like a thunder clap.  They looked up, and saw a neat waggonette, drawn by a team of well-kept bay horses, in which, on a back seat, sat Mr. Rawdon and a little girl with long fair hair.  On the front seat were two well-dressed women, one of whom was driving; the other wore a widow’s cap, and had a gentle, attractive face.  The waggon stopped for them to come on to the road, which, leaving their berries, they did, taking off their hats to the ladies as they approached.

“We did all we could, Mr. Rawdon, to make your dog go back to the hotel, but he insisted on following us,” said Wilkinson, apologetically.

“All very fine, my beauty, you ’ooked ’im and got ’im to shew you ware this ’ere box was.  I’m hup to your larks, and you such a hinnocent too!”

Wilkinson was indignant, and denied having anything to do with the box.

“Be careful what you say, Mr. Rawdon,” said Coristine, “I’m a lawyer, and may make a case, if you are not judicious in your language.”

“Oh come hoff, I don’t mean no ’arm; it’s just my fun.  ’Ave you any hobjection to give these ’ere gents a lift, Mrs. Thomas?”

“None, whatever,” replied the lady who was driving.

“Then, if you don’t mind, I’ll get hin halongside hof your sister hin front, hand leave them to keep company with little Marjorie ’ere,” said the working geologist; and climbed over into the front seat outside of the attractive widow.  Still, the pedestrians hesitated, till Mrs. Thomas, a by no means uncomely woman, said:  “Get in, gentlemen, we shall be pleased to have your company.”  This decided them.  They sprang into the waggon, one on each side of the little girl called Marjorie.  The horses trotted along, and Muggins hovered about them, with an occasional ecstatic bark.