Mr. Rutledge entered at this moment, followed by Tigre, and Miss Wynkar, partly because she was glad of anything to amuse herself with, and partly for the sake of a pretty attitude, sprung forward and caught the dog in her arms.
"Take care! he's just been out in the rain," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, but not in time to save the pretty morning dress from Tigre's muddy paws; and with an exclamation of disgust she threw down the dog, who, whining piteously from a blow against the table, came limping over to me.
"Poor fellow! that was a sudden reverse," said Victor, stooping to pat him. "Give me your paw, my friend, and accept my sympathy."
Ella darted an angry look toward us, and, I am certain, never forgave the laugh that escaped me.
"This is a dull day, young ladies," exclaimed Mr. Rutledge, throwing himself into a chair. "How shall we dispose of it?"
"Philosophy to the rescue!" said Josephine, with a charming smile. "It is only dull compared with what you had promised us."
"The pic-nic will hold good for another day, we'll trust. In the meantime, what shall we do to-day?"
"Who ever heard of doing anything but growl on such a day as this?" said Phil, leaning over Josephine's chair.
"Ladies weren't made for anything but sunshine, I'm certain," said the captain, thoughtfully, over his last cup of coffee.
Miss Wynkar and the Misses Churchill made the expected outcry at this speech, and Mr. Rutledge, after the excitement had subsided, went on with a proposal that quite brought down the house. It was to the effect that, as the gay people of the neighborhood, the Masons of Windy Hill, and the Emersons of Beech Grove, had each proposed something for the general benefit, it seemed expedient that some entertainment should be got up at Rutledge. What should it be? The Masons were to have tableaux, and the Emersons' invitations were out for a fête champêtre. What was left for them to do?