“Baal—no—baal,” shouted Shanter, fiercely. “Big white Mary—soff rag, plenty goosum greasum.”
“Be quiet, Shanter,” said Aunt Georgie, grimly.
“But,” cried the captain. “Oh, it is absurd. You are throwing away your chances.”
“Not at all, sir. I don’t see why a doctor should not have a farm.”
“But really—” began the captain.
“One moment, sir,” cried the doctor, interrupting; “will you come and settle near your fellow-creatures?”
“You have heard my arguments, gentlemen. It is my duty to stay.”
“Yes,” said the doctor; “and in reply, Henley here and I say that it is our duty as Englishmen to come and help to protect you and yours.”
Uncle Jack and the captain rose together, and took the young men’s hands, and then the party left the table to stroll out into the garden, upon as lovely an evening as ever shone upon this beautiful earth.
Every one looked happy, even Shanter, who was fast asleep; and as Norman, who was alone with his brother and cousin, looked round at the scene of peace and beauty, he could not help thinking that his father had done well. But his thoughts were rudely interrupted by Rifle, who threw himself on the grass, kicked up his heels, burst into a smothered fit of laughter, and then sat up to wipe his eyes.