“It was the reflection of these green leaves, good mother.”
“Well—perhaps it might be,” she doubtfully agreed, looking up. “What a grand fête it is to be, Johnny!”
“You’ll have to put on your best bib-and-tucker, good mother. That new dress you bought for the Sterlings’ christening.”
“I should if I went. But the fact is, Johnny, I and Mr. Todhetley have made up our minds not to go, I fancy. We were talking together about it this morning. However—we shall see when to-morrow comes.”
“I wouldn’t be you, then. That will be too bad.”
“These open-air fêtes are not in our way, Johnny. Dancing, and archery, and fortune-telling are not much in the way of us old people. You young ones think them delightful—as we did once. Hugh! Lena! what is all that noise about? You are not to take her bowl, Hugh: keep to your own. Joseph, please part them.”
Joe accomplished it by boxing the two. In the midst of the noise, Mr. Clement-Pell came out. He did not cross the lawn again to Mrs. Todhetley; just called out a good day in getting into his carriage, and lifted his hat as he drove away.
“I say, father, what did he want with you?” asked Tod, as the Squire came sauntering back, the skirts of his light coat held behind him.
“That’s my business, Joe,” said the Squire. “Mind your own.”