“I have received an invitation.”
“What! to Thistlewood?” asked my aunt.
“Yes, where I shall no doubt be shot.”
“Through the heart,” warbled Conny, with a sly laugh.
“Teazer, I am told, pulls a deadly trigger,” said I, looking at Conny.
“When do you go?” inquired my aunt.
“On Monday.”
“They seem in a great hurry to have you,” with a toss of the head.
“The invitation was hearty and irresistible. Yet I am so perfectly happy at Grove End, that I have no wish to leave it even for a day.”
“You must make haste to come back,” said my aunt.