The doctor had heard of Rawdon's
capture, and had sent these two innocents to see that all was right at
Bridesdale. Miss Halbert sat down by Miss Du Plessis, and the parson
accepting one of the colonel's cigars, joined the smokers. He also
regretted the absence of Coristine, a splendid fellow, he said, a
perfect trump, the girl will be lucky who gets a man like that,
expressions that were not calculated to make Miss Carmichael happy. Mr.
Perrowne had proposed and had been accepted. He was in wild spirits,
when Mr. Bigglethorpe startled the company by saying, "I've got an
idear!"
"Howld on to it, Bigglethorpe, howld on; you may never get another,"
cried the parson.
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Carruthers, who was shooing the children away
to Tryphosa.
"It's a united picnic to the likes. Who's got to sty at home?"
"I have for one," answered the Squire; "yon deevil o' a Rawdon has gien
me a scunner at picnics."
"I cannot go," said his wife, "for I have him and the children to keep
me."
"Paul, you must go, and Cecile also," interposed Mrs. Du Plessis; "I
will attend to the wants of our patient.
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