CHAPTER V.
[MRS. BUNNY DOUBTS.]
On Sundays the carved blackwood furniture in the Bunny's drawing-room emerged from its weekly suit of holland and shone resplendent in red satin upholstery. Mr. Bunny had exchanged his boots for a pair of list slippers, and was seated in a straight-backed chair, his spectacles pushed on to his forehead. He was a little ill-tempered at having had to take that long road home, and regretted that he had not taken out his brownberry. It was just this point, however, that he was unwilling to concede to Elder Bullin. In a recent argument Bunny maintained that it was flying in the face of divine law to work a horse on a Sunday. The elder held more practical opinions on the subject, and there had almost been an open rupture. Since that time, however, Bunny walked to church on the Sabbath, but was beginning to regret his line of action. He was not a young man, and adipose tissue had increased with his years. It irritated him to see the elder pass him with his pair of katty-war horses. Bunny had only one. The irritation he felt, however, was equalled by the sense of satisfaction that stole over the elder as he passed his opponent engaged in carrying out his convictions. There was a rustle, and Mrs. Bunny came into the room in her black silk dress. She was nearly fifteen years younger than her husband, a somewhat uncommon thing in the class of life to which they belonged, where husband and wife are mostly of the same age, or very near it. Her active habits had, moreover, prevented her from running into flesh as most Eurasian women do. She came into the room briskly, stopped, set some grass in a vase straight, and picking up The Evangelical Record, the organ of the Methodist community, settled herself in a chair opposite Bunny, after giving a satisfied glance round the room.
"Halsa and Mr. Galbraith haven't come in yet?" said Bunny, a tone of inquiry in his voice.
"They'll be in just now," replied his wife, unfolding the sheets of the paper and smiling to herself. She was a cunning little woman, and had long read Galbraith's feelings in his eyes.
"Where's Eddy?" asked the father. Eddy was their only child, a boy about twelve years of age. "I think I'll hear him his chapter," he added.
"Yes--where's the boy? Ed-dee!--Ed-dee!" and Mrs. Bunny cried aloud for her offspring.
There was a patter of footsteps in the hall, a rush up the passage, and Eddy burst into the room.
"Oh, maw!" he exclaimed, "Mr. Galbraith is kissing Aunty Halsa in the garden!"
"What!" shouted Bunny, fairly jumping to his feet.