The old and valued servants crowded to meet them, and congratulate them on their safe return. "My goodness me," said Anne, the housekeeper, after she had made her courtesies and said her say, "if the great gates are not open and the beggars coming in. Oh, Thomas, (turning to the dear aunt's servant) whatever must we do, what a queer set. Be off, good people. I must see for some men to turn them out. I don't think really that they can be anything respectable. None of our people would peep and look in like that. I cannot make them out at all, Thomas. They have a look about them anyways but respectable."
Thomas.—"To be sure, Anne, they look Furrineers, and they never is so neat and trim as our people."
Anne.—"Furrineers, then, Thomas, help me to turn them out, we wants nothing but English here. Be off, good people, be off, we harbours no vermin here. Eh, but they're a strange set."
My brother ran to her. "Don't disturb those people, Anne, they are very good people," said he.
Anne.—"But so unmannerly, Mr. Bertrand, coming in at such a particklar time."
Mr. Bertrand.—"Never mind, Anne, they are friends of mine."
Anne.—"Friends of yours, oh, indeed, Sir; well we did not know that, Thomas, did we? and how could we guess, so queer as they look. Surely now Mr. Bernard, you have never been and gone and brought home some New Zealand savages?"
Mr. Bertrand.—"Yes, Anne, I have, and that tall woman in the hat is to be my wife."
Anne.—"Oh my goodness me, Mr. Bertrand, none of your jokes to me if you please, Sir. I don't believe a word you say, Sir, and the more I look at them people the more I am sure they are no friends of yours, Sir. Such outlandish folk, in them big hats and those long bed-gownish things, they are not respectable. I must——"
Mr. Bertrand.—"Hush, hush, Anne, they are dear friends of mine; wait, wait just a few minutes; hearken now to what my brother says to your master."