The night was of that intensely calm and still character that invariably accompanies intense frost, so that the merry jingle of the sleigh-bells that struck on Mr. Kennedy’s listening ear continued to sound, and grow louder as they drew near, for a considerable time ere the visitors arrived. Presently the dull, soft tramp of horses’ hoofs was heard in the snow, and a well-known voice shouted out lustily, “Now then, Mactavish, keep to the left. Doesn’t the road take a turn there? Mind the gap in the fence. That’s old Kennedy’s only fault. He’d rather risk breaking his friends’ necks than mend his fences!”
“All right, here we are,” cried Mactavish, as the next instant two sleighs emerged out of the avenue into the moonlit space in front of the house, and dashed up to the door amid an immense noise and clatter of bells, harness, hoofs, snorting, and salutations.
“Ah, Grant, my dear fellow!” cried Mr. Kennedy, springing to the sleigh and seizing his friend by the hand as he dragged him out. “This is kind of you to come early. And Mrs. Grant, too. Take care, my dear madam, step clear of the haps; now, then—cleverly done” (as Mrs. Grant tumbled into his arms in a confused heap). “Come along now; there’s a capital fire in here.—Don’t mind the horses, Mactavish—follow us, my lad; Tom Whyte will attend to them.”
Uttering such disjointed remarks, Mr. Kennedy led Mrs. Grant into the house, and made her over to Mrs. Taddipopple, who hurried her away to an inner apartment, while Mr. Kennedy conducted her spouse, along with Mactavish and our friend the head clerk at Fort Garry, into the parlour.
“Harry, my dear fellow, I wish you joy,” cried Mr. Grant, as the former grasped his hand. “Lucky dog you are. Where’s Kate, eh? Not visible yet, I suppose.”
“No, not till the parson comes,” interrupted Mr. Kennedy, convulsing his left cheek.—“Hollo, Charley, where are you? Ah! bring the cigars, Charley.—Sit down, gentlemen; make yourselves at home—I say, Mrs. Taddi—Taddi—oh, botheration—popple! that’s it—your name, madam, is a puzzler-but-we’ll need more chairs, I think. Fetch one or two, like a dear!”
As he spoke the jingle of bells was heard outside, and Mr. Kennedy rushed to the door again.
“Good-evening, Mr. Addison,” said he, taking that gentleman warmly by the hand as he resigned the reins to Tom Whyte. “I am delighted to see you, sir (Look after the minister’s mare, Tom), glad to see you, my dear sir. Some of my friends have come already. This way, Mr. Addison.”
The worthy clergyman responded to Mr. Kennedy’s greeting in his own hearty manner, and followed him into the parlour, where the guests now began to assemble rapidly.
“Father,” cried Charley, catching his sire by the arm, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, but you dance about like a will-o’-the-wisp. Do you know I’ve invited my friends Jacques and Redfeather to come to-night, and also Louis Peltier, the guide with whom I made my first trip. You recollect him, father?”