“In Nottinghamshire,” said Mr. Joseph smiling. “Yes, that is—or was—our home. My father still resides there.”
“Indeed?” said Mr. ——. “Is it possible! And you have come out here? Really, it is most interesting, most fortunate that you should have chosen our little village, should have pitched your tent so to speak—ah! quite so.”
“My brother likes the country,” said Mr. Joseph.
“Ah! yes, quite so. And there is much to see in this new country, in Canada, much to see. You will remain some time?”
“We will remain as long as it suits my brother,” said Mr. Joseph. “At present, we can hardly tell.”
“Quite so, quite so. I hope—I am sure my daughter concurs in the hope, that we shall see you in church as often as you can come and also—ah! at the Rectory. Such society as we can give you here you may be assured we will endeavor to give with all our—ah! heart to the best of our ability.”
“Thanks very much” returned Mr. Joseph. “I am sure my brother and I will be exceedingly glad to go and see you at the Rectory. About church I will say that we never go very regularly anywhere, but when it isn't too hot, too hot, you know, or too cold, or anything of that sort, I am sure we'll try to turn up there as well.”
The rector, smiled indulgently. No call to be hard on the Mr. Foxleys, of Foxley Manor. Miss Maria left the Inn smitten for the fiftieth time.
“I knew I should marry an Englishman,” she exclaimed ecstatically up the road with her father.
“The dark one, oh! the dark one!”