“I begin to perceive that it is, Pauline. But whom are you talking of?”
“Now, Padre,” said Verena, “if you don’t wake and rouse yourself, and act like a decent Christian, you’ll be just prodded—you’ll be just shaken. We will do it. There are eight of us, and we’ll make your life a burden.”
“Eh—eh!” said Mr. Dale. “Really, girls, you are enough to startle a man. And you say——”
“I say, Paddy, that Miss Sophia Tredgold is on her way here. Each instant she is coming nearer. She is coming in the old pony cart, and the old pony is struggling with all his might to convey her here. She is coming with her luggage, intending to stay, and our object is to get her to go away again. Do you hear, Padre?”
“Yes, my dear, I hear. I comprehend. It takes a great deal to bring a man back down the ages—down—down to this small, poor, parsimonious life; it takes a great deal. A man is not easily roused, nor brought back; but I am back now, darlings.—Excuse me, Briar; no more prodding.—Hands off, Pauline.—Hands off, Patty. Perhaps I had better tidy myself.”
“You certainly would look nicer, and more like the owner of The Dales, if you got into your other coat,” said Briar.
“Shall we all come up and help you, Padre?” called out the eight in a breath.
“No, no, dears. I object to ladies hovering about my room. I’ll run away now.”
“Yes, yes; and you’d better be quick, Padre, for I hear wheels.”
“I am going, loves, this moment.”