“We are merely going to call on some relations who live at a village in the neighbourhood,” said Julia, who had as little wish for the general’s company as did Harry.
“Then let me have the honour of mounting you, Miss Julia,” said the old officer, shuffling down the steps.
At the same moment Mrs Appleton, who was passing across the hall, came to the door with most of the remaining guests.
Headland had been prepared to assist Julia in mounting, but the old general so perseveringly offered his services that she could not refuse them.
She placed her foot in his hand as he bent down, and sprang lightly into her saddle, but at the same moment the horse moving on, the general’s head came in contact with the body of her habit, when his wig catching in one of the buttons, off it came, leaving him bald-headed. He bore the misfortune, however, with much less equanimity, especially as Julia, in spite of the effort she made, gave expression to her amusement in a hearty laugh which was echoed by the bystanders, even the grooms being unable to restrain their merriment.
“I beg your pardon, general,” said Julia. “I had no intention to return your courtesy in so cruel a manner; here is your wig, do put it on, and forgive me.”
“Of course, young lady, of course; though I do not see that the occurrence should produce so much merriment among our friends.”
“My dear general,” cried Mrs Appleton from the steps above, “pray do not take the matter to heart. Come into the drawing-room and look at yourself in the mirror, and you may arrange your peruke in a more becoming way than it is at present.”
In fact, the general had in his hurry put on his wig hind part before, a mode which did not improve the appearance of his countenance, reddened with anger and annoyance.
Harry, eager to be off, called to Julia, who, again apologising to the angry general, followed her brother, and Headland soon overtook them.