The driver is taking his horses along very easily, but we do not care to hurry him. I have not felt so happy, so at ease, so gay, since I was wed.
"This is nice," say I, making a frantic snatch at a long acacia-droop; "how I wish they were all here!"
Sir Roger laughs a little, and raises his eyebrows slightly.
"Do you mean with us—now—in the carriage? Should not we be rather a tight fit?"
"Rather," say I, laughing too. "We should be puzzled how to pack them all, should not we? We would be like the animals in a Noah's ark."
A little pause.
"General," say I, impulsively, "it has just occurred to me, are not you sometimes deadly, deadly tired of hearing about the boys? I am sure I should be, if I were you. Confess! I will try not to be any angrier with you than I can help; but do not you sometimes wish that Algy and Bobby, and the Brat—not to speak of Tou Tou—were drowned in the Red Sea, or in the horse-pond, at home?"
"At least you gave me fair warning," he says, with a smile. "Do you remember telling me that whoever married you would have to marry all six?"
"I wish you would not remind me of that," say I, reddening.
It was quite the broadest hint any one ever gave. The evening is deepening. We have reached Weisserhoisch. Now our faces are turned homeward again. As we pass the entrance to the Gardens of the Linnisches Bad, we see the lamps springing into light, and the people gayly yet quietly trooping in, while on the soft evening air comes the swell of merry music.