"This will be a regular jour de noce, as you would say, Major," remarked Colonel Sword, giving his arm to Mrs Smith.
"It's a nos non nobis, poor auld bachelors—as a body may say," replied the Major, and the whole party proceeded to the hotel.
Mr Clan, on making his escape from the fulminations of Mrs Sword, had been rejoiced to see his carpet-bag still resting against the wall under the archway of the inn, as he had left it when he first arrived.
"Waiter!" he cried; and the same long-haired individual in the blue coat, with the napkin over his arm, came to his call.
"Is there any coach to London this evening?"
"Yes, sir—at half-past six."
"Thank heaven!" exclaimed Mr Clam, "I shall get out of this infernal town. Waiter!"
"Yes, sir."
"I came from London to-day with a lady—close veiled, all muffled up. She is a married woman, too—more shame for her."
"Yes, sir. Do you dine before you go, sir." said the waiter, not attending to Mr Clan's observations.