There was all over him the essence of the country. You saw at once he had never passed a season in London. His very boots proclaimed he had never been presented; and we felt almost convulsed with laughter as he shook hands with us all round, and attempted a most empressé manner with Florence.
"Beautiful weather we have now," remarked Mrs. Aspeden.
"She is indeed!" answered the little squire, with a gaze of admiration at Florence.
Fane, who was leaning against the mantelpiece, looking most superbly haughty and unapproachable, shot an annihilating glance at the small man, which would have quite extinguished him had he seen it.
"The country is very pretty in June," said Mrs. Aspeden, hazarding another original remark.
"Lovely—too lovely!" echoed Mr. Mills, with a profound sigh, at which the country must have felt exceedingly flattered.
"Glorious creature your new mare is, Mr. Mills," cried the Cantab; "splendid style she took the fences in yesterday."
"Wilkins may well say she is the belle of the county!" continued Mr. Mills, dreamily. "I beg your pardon, what did you say? my mother took the fences well? No, she never hunts."
"Pray tell Mrs. Mills I am very much obliged for the beautiful azalias she sent me," interposed Florence, with her sweet smile.
"I—I am sure anything we have you are welcome to. I—I—allow me——" And the poor squire, stooping for Florence's thimble, upset a tiny table, on which stood a vase with the azalias in question, on the back of a little bull of a spaniel, who yelled, and barked, and flew at the squire's legs, who, for his part, became speechless from fright, reddened all over, and at last, stammering out that he wanted to see Mr. Aspeden, and would go to him in the grounds, rushed from the room.