“Well done, Francie.  You’ll cut that poor little thing out in looks and voice, if not in acting.”

“Oh, uncle, I sang so horridly.”

“You can do better if you try; I wish there was time to train you.  We’ll do the ‘logs duet’ once more after this tomfoolery.  Ha!  Captain Armytage.  You are an awful pirate, and no mistake.  Where did you get that splendid horse-pistol?”

“From my native home, as well as my sword; but I wrote to Willingham for the rest.  This will be an uncommonly pretty march-past.  The girls look so well, and all out of doors too.”

This was decidedly a great advantage, the trees, grass, and blue sky lending a great grace to the scene.  The procession started from the garden entrance of the hotel, headed by the town band in uniform, and the fire brigade likewise, very proud of themselves, especially the little terrier whom nothing would detach from one of the firemen.  Then came the four seasons belonging to the flower stall, appropriately decked with flowers, the Italian peasants with flat veils, bright aprons, and white sleeves, Maura White’s beauty conspicuous in the midst, but with unnecessary nods and becks.  Then came the “mediaeval” damsels in ruffs and high hats, the Highland maidens, with Valetta and Primrose giggling unmanageably; and Aunt Jane’s troop of the various costumes of charity children, from the green frocks, long mittens, and tall white caps, and the Jemima Placid flat hats and long waists, down to the red cloaks, poke straw bonnets, and blue frocks of the Lady Bountiful age.  These were followed by the merry fairies and elves; then by the buccaneers and the captive prisoners; and the rear was brought up by MacProspero, as Lord Rotherwood called him, with his niece on his arm and his nephew by his side.

When the central stall, or bothie, in the Carrara grounds was reached, after passing in full state and order over two of the bridges, the procession halted before a group of the Rotherwood family, Sir Jasper and Lady Merrifield, Lady Flight, and other local grandees, with the clergy, who had declined to walk in procession.  There the performers spread themselves out, singing Autolycus’s song, led of course by MacProspero; Lady Rotherwood, with as much dignity as the occasion permitted, declared the bazaar open, and the Marquis hoped every one was going to ruin themselves in the cause of Christian education.

The first idea of “every one” was luncheon, except that Lance laid hands on his unfortunate Angus and Mona for their duet, in the midst of which Lord Rotherwood made a raid on them.

“There!  I’m sure Prospero never was so cruel as to starve what’s-his-name!  Come in and have some food-—it is just by.”