The Picnic--Treasure Trove--A Substantial Ghost
Captured--Coristine's Farewell--Ride to Collingwood--Bangs Secures
Rawdon--Off to Toronto--Coristine Meets the Captain--Grief at
Bridesdale--Marjorie and Mr. Biggles--Miss Du Plessis Frightens Mr.
Lamb--The Minister's Smoke--Fishing Picnic.
After his Parthian shot, the Captain ordered Sylvanus to get out the
gig, as he was going home. Leaving Marjorie in the hands of her aunt
Carmichael, he saluted his daughter, his niece, and his two sisters in
law, and took their messages for Susan. There was grief in the kitchen
at the departure of Sylvanus, who expected to be on the rolling deep
before the end of the week. Mr. Pawkins and Constable Rigby had already
taken leave, travelling homeward in an amicable way. Then, Doctor
Halbert insisted on his vehicle being brought round, as there must be
work waiting for him at home; so a box with a cushion was placed for his
sprained leg, and he and Miss Fanny were just on the eve of starting,
when Mr. Perrowne came running up in great haste, and begged to be
allowed to drive the doctor over. With a little squeezing he got in,
and, amid much waving of handkerchiefs, the doctor's buggy drove away.
Mr. Lamb exhibited no desire to leave, and Miss Carmichael was compelled
to devote herself to him, a somewhat monotonous task, in spite of his
garrulous egotism. Timotheus, by the Squire's orders, harnessed the
horses to the waggonette, and deposited therein a pickaxe and a spade.
Mr. Bigglethorpe brought out his fishing tackle, joyous over the
prospect of a day's fishing, and Mr. Terry lugged along a huge basket,
prepared by his daughter in the kitchen, with all manner of eatables and
drinkables for the picnic. The lawyer made the fourth of the party,
exclusive of Timotheus, who gave instructions to Maguffin how to behave
in his absence. The colonel was with Wilkinson, but the ladies and Mr.
Lamb came to see the expedition under way. It was arranged that
Timotheus should drive the Squire and the lawyer to the masked road and
leave them there, after which he was to take the others to Richards
place, put up the horses, and help them to propel the scow through the
lakes and channels. Accordingly, the treasure seekers got out the pick
and shovel, and trudged along to the scene of the late fire. As they
neared the Encampment, their road became a difficult and painful one,
over fallen trees blackened with fire, and through beds of sodden ashes.
At the Encampment, the ground, save where the buildings had stood, was
comparatively bare. The lofty and enormously strong brick chimney was
still standing in spite of the many explosions, and, here and there, a
horse appeared, looking wistfully at the ruins of its former home.
There, the intending diggers stood, gazing mutely for a while on the
scene of desolation.
"'Sandy soil, draining both ways, and undercover,' is what we want,
Coristine," said the Squire. The two walked back and forward along the
ridge, rejecting rock and depression and timbered land. They searched
the foundations of houses and sheds, found the trap under Rawdon's own
house that led to the now utterly caved-in tunnel, and tried likely
spots where once the stables stood, only to find accumulations of
rubbish. A steel square such as carpenters use, was found among the
chips in the stone-yard, and of this Coristine made a primitive
surveyor's implement by which he sought to take the level of the ground.
"Bring your eye down here, Mr. Carruthers," he said. "I see," answered
the Squire; "but, man, yon's just a conglomeration o' muckle stanes."
The lawyer replied, "That's true, Squire, but it's the height of land,
and that top stone lies almost too squarely to be natural. Let us try
them at least. It will do no harm, and the day is young yet." They went
forward to a spot beyond the stone yard, on the opposite side from the
burnt stables, which they saw had once been railed off, for the
blackened stumps of the posts were still in the ground. It was a
picturesque mass of confusion, apparently an outcrop of the limestone,
not uncommon in that region. But the lawyer probed the ground all about
it. It was light dry soil, with no trace of a rocky bottom. Without a
lever, their work was hard, but they succeeded in throwing off the
large flat protecting slab, and in scattering its rocky supports. "Man,
Coristine, I believe you're richt." ejaculated the perspiring
Carruthers. Then he took the pick and loosened the ground, while the
lawyer removed the earth with his spade. "There's no' a root nor a
muckle stane in the haill o't, Coristine; this groond's been wrocht
afore, my lad." So they kept on, till at last the pick rebounded with a
metallic clang. "Let me clear it, Squire," asked the lawyer, and, at
once, his spade sent the sand flying, and revealed a box of japanned
tin, the counterpart of that discovered by Muggins, which had only
contained samples of grindstones. A little more picking, and a little
more spading, and the box came easily out. It was heavy, wonderfully
heavy, and it was padlocked. The sharp edge of the spade loosened the
lid sufficiently to admit the point of the pick, and, while Coristine
hung on to the box, the Squire wrenched it open. The tin box was full of
notes and gold.
"There's thoosands an' thoosands here, Coristine, eneuch to keep yon
puir body o' a Matilda in comfort aa' her days. Man, it's a graun'
discovery, an' you're the chiel that's fund it," cried the Squire, with
exultation. The lawyer peered in too, when, suddenly, he heard a shot, a
bullet whizzed past his ear, and, the next moment, with a sickening
thud, Carruthers fell to the ground. Coristine rose to his feet like
lightning, and faced an apparition; the Grinstun man, with pistol in one
hand and life preserver in the other, was before him. Without a moment's
hesitation he regained his grasp of his spade, and stretched the ghost
at his feet, mercifully with the flat of it, and then relieved his
victim of pistol and loaded skull-cracker. He heard voices hailing, and
recognized them as those of the veteran and the fisherman. He replied
with a loud cry of "Hurry, hurry, help!" which roused the prostrate
spectre. It arose and made a dash for the tin box, but Coristine threw
himself upon the substantial ghost, and a struggle for life began. They
clasped, they wrestled, they fell over the poor unconscious Squire, and
upset the tin box. They clasped each other by the throat, the hair; they
kicked with their feet, and pounded with their knees. It was Grinstun's
last ditch, and he was game to hold it; but the lawyer was game too.
Sometimes he was up and had his hand on his opponent's throat, and
again, he could not tell how, he was turned over, and the heavy squat
form of Rawdon fell like an awful nightmare on his chest. But he would
not give in. He saw his antagonist reach for a weapon, pistol,
skull-cracker, he knew not what it was, but that reach released one hand
from his throat. With a tremendous effort, he turned, and lay side to
side with his enemy, when Timotheus dashed in, and, bodily picking up
the Grinstun man in his arms, hammered his head on the big flat stone,
till the breathless lawyer begged him to stop. Up came Mr. Bigglethorpe
and Mr. Terry in great consternation, and gazed with wonder upon the
lately active ghost. "Make him fast," cried Coristine with difficulty,
"while I look after the poor Squire." So, Timotheus and the fisher took
off Rawdon's coat and braces, and bound him hand and foot with his own
belongings. But the veteran had already looked to his son-in-law, and,
from the picnic stores, had poured some spirits into his lips. "Rouse
up, John, avic," he cried piteously, "rouse up, my darlint, or Honoria
'ull be breakin' her poor heart. It's good min is scarce thim toimes,
an' the good God'll niver be takin' away the bist son iver an ould man
had." The Squire came to, although the dark blood oozed out of an ugly
wound in the back of his head, and the amount of liquor his affectionate
father-in law had poured into him made him light-headed. "Glory be to
God!" said the old man, and all the others gratefully answered "Amen."
The lawyer explained the circumstances, the excavation, the money, the
assault, to his deliverers; but the resurrection of the Grinstun man was
a mystery which he could not explain. Without being told, Timotheus,
whose arrival had been so opportune, ran all the way to Richards, and
brought from thence the waggon, along with Harry Richards, who
volunteered to accompany him, and Mr. Errol, who was visiting in the
neighbourhood. Young Richards brought an axe with him, and cleared some
of the obstructions of the once masked road, so that the vehicle was
able to get up within reasonable distance of the encampment. It was
desirable to get the Squire home, lest his injuries should be greater
than they supposed, and the prisoner ought to be in Mr. Bangs' hands at
once. Accordingly, Mr. Errol and Harry Richards offered to stay with Mr.
Bigglethorpe and carry out the original picnic, it being understood that
Timotheus would either call or send for them about four o'clock.
"Gin I'm gaun to be oot on the splore, I maun hae a bit smokie. Wha's
gotten a bit pipe he's no usin'?" asked the usually sedate minister.
Coristine handed over to him his smoking materials, penknife included;
and Mr. Errol, taking off his coat, sat down on a stone to fill the
pipe, saying, "Nae mair pastoral veesitation for me the day. Gin any
body spiers whaur I am, just tell them I'm renewin' my youth." Timotheus
and Harry carried the prisoner to the waggon, while the veteran and the
lawyer followed, leading the Squire, and carrying the box of treasure.
The fishermen came to see them off, and, then, they descended to the
lake shore and began the sport of the day. Timotheus drove, and the
Squire sat up between him and his affectionate father-in-law. The lawyer
was in the rear seat with the prisoner, who, for greater security, was
lashed to the back of it. Rawdon's revolver was in his captor's hand,
and his skull-cracker in a handy place. Several times, shamming
insensibility, the prince of tricksters endeavoured to throw his
solitary warder off his guard, but the party reached Bridesdale without
his succeeding in loosening a single thong. There was great
consternation when Timotheus drove up to the gate. The children had been
at their old game of the handkerchief, and Miss Carmichael was actually
chasing Orther Lom, to their great glee, and to Coristine's intense
disgust. Of course, they stopped when they saw the waggon and the
Squire's pale face. The colonel, who had been smoking his morning cigar
on the verandah, came forward rapidly, and, with Mr. Terry, helped the
master of Bridesdale to alight. Then, his wife and sister took the
wounded man in charge, and led him into the house, for he was thoroughly
dazed and incapable of attending to any business. "If you will allow me,
colonel," said the lawyer, "I will take charge of legal matters in this
case," to which Colonel Morton answered, "Most cehtainly, my deah suh,
no one moah competent."
Maguffin had come round to see if his services would be required, and
was appointed to mount guard over the prisoner in company with
Timotheus. To Mr. Terry the lawyer gave the heavy cash box, with orders
to put it in a safe place in the Squire's office. Then, Coristine went
up-stairs, washed and brushed away the traces of conflict, and knocked
at Wilkinson's door. A lady's voice told him to enter, and, on his
complying with the invitation, he beheld Miss Du Plessis sitting by the
bedside of his friend, with a book, which was not Wordsworth, in her
hand. "Please to pardon my intrusion, Miss Du Plessis; the Squire is
hurt, and we have captured Grinstuns, who was not burnt up after all. I
must see the prisoner safely caged, and have other business to attend
to, so that I have come to say good-bye. I am sure that you will take
every care of my dear friend here." After this little speech, hard to
utter, the lawyer shook his friend by the well hand, saying: "Good-bye,
Wilks, old boy, and keep up your heart; any messages for town?" Before
he had time to receive any such commissions, he shook hands warmly with
the lady, and vanished. Replacing Maguffin over Rawdon, he told him to
saddle a horse, and bring it round. His orders to Mr. Terry and
Timotheus were to secure their prisoner between them in some lighter
vehicle, and bring him with all speed to Collingwood, whither he would
precede them on horseback. He found the Squire in an easy chair in the
sitting room with three lady attendants. Shaking hands with the
half-unconscious man, he assured him that he would attend to the
business of the day, and then, with a few words of grateful recognition
to Mrs. Carruthers, bade all the ladies good-bye. "Hasten back," they
all said, and the kind hostess added: "We will think long till we see
you again." Walking back into the kitchen, he bestowed a trifle in his
most gracious manner, on Tryphena and Tryphosa, and then went forth to
look for Marjorie. As he kissed her an affectionate farewell in the
garden, the little girl intuitively guessed his absence to be no common
one, and begged her Eugene to stay, with tears in her eyes. But he was
obdurate with her and all the little Carruthers, on whom he showered
quarters to buy candy at the post office. Maguffin was there with the
horse, and, near the gate, was Miss Carmichael with that ineffable ass
Lamb. Looking at the latter as if he would dearly love to kick him, he
raised his hat to his companion, and extended his hand with the simple
words "Good-bye." Miss Carmichael did not offer hers in return; she
said: "It is hardly worth while being so formal over an absence of a few
hours." Coristine turned as if a serpent had bitten him, slipped some
money into Maguffin's hand, as that worthy held open the gate for him,
and vaulted on his horse, nor did he turn to look round so long as the
eyes of Bridesdale were on his retreating figure.
The lawyer rode hard, for he was excited. He went by Talfourd's house
like a flash, and away through the woods he had traversed on Nash's
beast that last pleasant Sunday morning. At the Beaver River he watered
his horse, and exchanged a word with Pierre and Batiste bidding the
former look out that no attempt at rescuing the prisoner should be made
in that quarter. Away he went, with madame's eyes watching him from
afar, up the ascent, and along the road to where the Hills dwelt at the
foot of the Blue Mountains. He doffed his hat to the old lady as he
passed, then breasted the mountain side. For a moment, he stood on the
summit to take in the view once more, then clattered down the other
side, and away full pelt for the town. Soon he entered Collingwood, and
sought the police headquarters without delay. Where was Mr. Bangs? He
was told, to his great delight, that the detective was in town, and
would report at four o'clock. It was now half-past three. Putting up his
horse at the hotel, the lawyer partook of a hasty meal at a restaurant,
and returned in time to meet Bangs on the very threshold. "Whet ere you
doing here, Lawyer Coristine?" he asked.
"You will never guess, Mr. Bangs."
"Any more trebble et Bridesdele?"
"No, but I'll tell you; we've caught Rawdon."
"Why, the men's dead, berned to a cinder, you know."
"No, he is not; that was some other man."
"Ere you shore, Mr. Coristine?"
"Perfectly. Mr. Terry and Timotheus are bringing him here now."
"Whet, only the two of them, and kemming pest the Beaver too?"
"Yes; there were no more to send. I warned Pierre Lajeunesse to be on
the lookout."
"Is your beast fit to trevel eny more?"
"I think so; it seems a strong animal."
"Then get on hersebeck quick! Here, kensteble, hend me two betons, and a
kerbine!"
When the lawyer returned with his hard-ridden steed, he found Mr. Bangs
mounted, with a baton by his side and a carbine slung behind him. Off
they went along the shore and up the hill. Descending, they saw the
buggy approaching slowly in the neighbourhood of the Hills' log shanty,
attended by four persons who seemed to be armed. Hastening down the
slope, they came up to it, and found the prisoner safe but awfully
profane. The foot guards were Ben Toner, Barney Sullivan, and Rufus
Hill, under the command of Monsieur Lajeunesse. They were relieved of
their self-imposed duty with many thanks, and Coristine shook hands with
the honest fellows, as he and the detective replaced them in escort
duty. Then Timotheus whipped up his horse, and they drove and rode into
town, an imposing spectacle for the eyes of the youth of Collingwood.
Bangs could hardly believe his eyes, and could not conceal his delight,
on beholding the murderer of his now buried friend. No pains were spared
for the safe-keeping of the notorious criminal. In the presence of a
magistrate, Coristine and Mr. Terry made affidavit as to his crimes and
capture. The latter and Timotheus also related his attempts to bribe
them into giving him his liberty, offering large sums and promising to
leave the country. "Now, Mishter Corstine," says the veteran, "it's
hoigh toime we was gettin' home. The good payple 'ull be gettin' onaisy
about yeez, 'an spashly Miss Carrmoichael that was gravin' sore to think
she niver said good-boye to yeez. Come, now, come away, an' lave the
baste in the shtable, for it's toired roidin' ye must be."
"I am not going back, Mr. Terry. I said good-bye to them all at
Bridesdale, and must hurry away to business. Perhaps Timotheus will ride
the horse, while you drive."
"Thet pore enimel isn't fit fer eny more werk to-night, Mr. Coristine.
I'll tell you, Mr. Terry, whet I'll do. I shell be beck here to-morrow
evening, end will ride the horse to Bridesdele. I've got a weggon and
team of the Squire's here, which yeng Hill will drive beck for me. Then
he ken ride pore Nesh's horse, and I ken get my own. Strenge they didn't
give you one of thowse beasts instead of the colonel's, Mr. Coristine."
"Is this the colonel's horse?"
"I should sey it is. You down't think eny ether enimel could hev brought
you elong so fest, do you?"
"God bless the kind old man!" ejaculated the lawyer.
"Mishter Corstine, dear, it'll be breakin' aall the poor childer's
hearts an' some that's growed up too if you 'll be afther lavin' us this
way," continued Mr. Terry; and Timotheus, whom his Peskiwanchow friend
rewarded, added his appeal: "I wisht you wouldn't go fer to go home
jess' yet. Mister." But all entreaties were unavailing. He and Mr. Bangs
saw the buggy off, and then retired to the hotel to get some supper. On
the way thither, he invested in a briar root pipe and some tobacco to
replace those he had given to Mr. Errol. They would be home from fishing
long ago, and perhaps good Bigglethorpe would take Miss Carmichael away
from that miserable Orther Lom. After supper, the two sat over their
pipes and a decoction of some kind in the reading-room, talking over the
sad and wonderful events of the past few days. Mr. Bangs took very
kindly to the lawyer, and promised to look him up whenever he came to
town. He advised him to keep silent about the discovery of Rawdon's
money, as the crown might claim it, and thus deprive poor Matilda Nagle
of her only chance of independence. He said also that he would instruct
the Squire in the same direction on the morrow.
That night, two gaol guards armed to the teeth arrived in police
quarters to take charge of Davis, but the bigger criminal was placed in
their care. Early in the morning there was a stir in the railway
station, when the handcuffed prisoners were marched down under strong
escort, and securely boxed up with their guards and Mr. Bangs. Many
rough characters were there, among whom the lawyer recognized Matt of
the tavern, and Bangs and he could have sworn to the identity of others,
whom the former had met in the cavalry charge on the masked road and
whom Coristine had seen and heard in the Richards' scow the night of the
catastrophe. They scowled, but attempted no rescue. Thanks to the
lawyer's generalship, things had been pushed through too quickly for
them to combine. For some time, Coristine travelled alone. There were
other people in the car, but he did not know them, nor did he care to
make any new acquaintances. All his friends were at Bridesdale, and he
was a homeless exile going back to Mrs. Marsh's boarding-house. At
Dromore, however, he caught sight of the wide-mouthed barrel of a
blunderbuss, and knew the Captain could not be far off. Soon that naval
gentleman got on board, helping Mrs. Thomas up to the platform, followed
by Sylvanus with the saluting weapon. They were to be his companions as
far as Barrie, and much the lawyer enjoyed their society. Marjorie was
the great subject of conversation, although, of course, the Captain had
to be enlightened in many points of recent history. He still thought
Wilkinson a sly dog, but wondered greatly at Coristine's going away.
Mrs. Thomas explained the relationship of Orther Lom. He had been a poor
neglected boy, when Marjorie Carmichael was a little girl, whom her
father, the member, had interested himself in, giving him an education,
and supporting him in part while at the Normal School in Toronto. Just
before he died, he exerted his influence to obtain a Government berth
for him, and that was the whole story. The lawyer saw it all now, and
learned too late what a foolish fellow he had been. Of course, there
were old times, and they had much to talk of, and she could not help
being civil to him, and being angry when he had reminded her father's
protegé of his early poverty. Coristine sighed, and felt that, if Lamb
had been present, he would have apologized to him. To cheer him up, the
Captain invited him to join Mrs. Thomas and himself on a cruise in the
_Susan_. He would have enjoyed it immensely he said, but, having made so
many assertions of pressing business in the city, he had to be
consistent and miserable. At Barrie, he bade his last friends adieu,
parted affectionately with The Crew, and then gazed longingly at the
spars of the _Susan Thomas_ in Kempenfeldt Bay. If only the Captain had
brought the two Marjories for a cruise, he would have shipped with him
for a month, and have let business go to the dogs. There were no more
objects of interest till he arrived in Toronto, took a streetcar, and
deposited himself, much to that lady's astonishment, in his bachelor's
quarters at Mrs. Marsh's boarding-house. After a special lunch, he sat
down to smoke and read a little Browning.
It was very late when Mr. Terry and Timotheus arrived at Bridesdale. All
the ladies had retired, with the exception of Mrs. Carruthers, who had
staid up to await her father's arrival. The gentlemen of the party were
the Squire, quite clear in head and not much the worse of his crack on
the skull, Mr. Bigglethorpe, and Mr. Errol, who had been induced to
continue his splore in the office. He was still renewing his youth, when
the veteran entered all alone, and said he didn't mind if he did help
Mr. Bigglethorpe with that decanter, for it was tiresome work driving.
"Where is Mr. Coristine, grandfather?" asked the Squire.
"It's in Collinwud he is an his way to Teranty."
"What! do you mean to say he has left us, gone for good?"
"That's fwhat it is. Oi prished 'em, an' porshwaded 'em, an' towld 'em
it was desprut anggery an' graved yeez wud aall be. Says he Oi've bud
'em aall good-boye an' Oi'm goin' home to bishness. It was lucky for
you, Squoire, that it wasn't lasht noight he wint."
"It is that, grandfather. I'd have been a dead man. He maun hae focht
yon deevil like a wild cat tae get oot o' the way o's pistols and
things."
"'Twas Timawtheus as kim up furrust an' tuk the thafe av a Rawdon out av
his arrums, for he grupped 'em good an' toight."
"Well done, Timotheus!" said Mr. Errol. "He's a fine lad, Mr.
Bigglethorpe, though a bit clumsy in his ways."
"We can't all be handsome, sir," answered that gentleman. "If he's got
the good principle in him, that's the mine thing, so I always say."
Mrs. Carruthers put her head into the smoke, coughed a little, and said:
"Come, father, supper is waiting for you in the breakfast room." The
veteran followed his daughter, and, over his evening meal, gave her a
detailed account of the proceedings of the afternoon. "And to go away
without a bite to eat, and ride all that distance, and leave his
knapsack and his flowers and I don't know what else behind him, what is
the meaning of it, father?"
"Honoria, my dear, I aalways thought women's eyes was cliverer nor
min's. There's a little gyurl they call Marjorie, an' she's not so
little as aall that, if she isn't quoite the hoighth av Miss Ceshile.
That bhoy was jist dishtracted wid the crool paice, that goes aff
philanderin wid the Shivel Sharvice shape av a Lamb. He didn't say it
moind in wurruds, but I see it was the killin' av 'em, an' he jist
coulden' shtand it no langer. Smaal blame to him say Oi!"
So grandfather got his supper, and went back to the office to finish his
pipe and his tumbler, while Timotheus was entertaining Tryphosa in the
kitchen. Mrs. Carruthers retired, but, first, she visited the young
ladies' apartment, and said, in a tone which she meant to be reproachful
as well as regretful: "Mr. Coristine has left us never to return." The
kindest-hearted woman in the world, having thrown this drop of
bitterness into her niece's cup, left her to drink it to the dregs.
Meanwhile Orther Lom was dreaming that he could not do better than marry
the Marjorie of his youth and begin housekeeping, in spite of tailors'
bills.
The sun rose bright on Friday morning, and, peeping in upon Mr.
Bigglethorpe in his room and upon Marjorie in the nursery bedroom, awoke
these two early birds. They met on the stairs and came down together.
The fisherman said he thought he would get his things bundled up,
meaning his gun and rods, and walk home to breakfast, but Marjorie said
he just wouldn't, for Eugene was gone, and, if he were to go, she would
have nobody. Well broken in to respect for feminine authority, save when
the fishing fit was on, Mr. Bigglethorpe had to succumb, and travel down
to the creek after crawfish, chub and dace. He told his youthful
companion fishing stories which amused her; and confided to her that he
was going to train up his little boy to be a great fisherman. "Have you
got a little boy, Mr. Biggles?" she asked, and then added: "How funny!"
as if her friend ought to have been content with other people's
children, and fish.
"What is his name, Mr. Biggles?" she enquired.
"He hasn't been christened yet, but I think I'll call him Isaac Walton,
or Charles Cotton, or Piscator. Don't you think these are nice nimes?"
"No, I don't. Woollen and Cotton and what Mr. Perrowne belongs to are
not pretty. Eugene is pretty."
Mr. Bigglethorpe laughed, and said: "I didn't say Woollen but Walton,
and I said Piscator, which is the Latin for fisher, not Episcopalian,
which Mr. Perrowne is."
"Why do you want to call him a fisher? It is like a Sunday School story
Marjorie read me, a Yankee book, about a little baby boy that was left
on a doorstep, and the doorstep man's name was Fish, and he had him
baptized Preserved because he was preserved, and he grew up to be a good
man and was called Preserved Fish. Wasn't that awful?"
"Oh very streinge! If my boy had been a little girl, I would have nimed
her Marjorie."
"See, Mr. Biggles, here she comes again, and Cecile, and, O horrors!
Orther Lom."
It was too true. The young ladies had come out to enjoy the morning air,
and, after a turn in the garden, had rushed to the hill meadow to escape
the Departmental gentleman, whose elegant morocco slippers they had
heard on the stairs. Spite of the morning dew he had pursued them, well
pleased with himself, and doubtful whom to conquer with his charms.
"O Mr. Biggles," continued Marjorie, "that horrid man got me a naughty,
cruel shaking, and he's sent my dear Eugene away never to come back any
more. I know, because I went into aunty's room when I got up; and she
told me."
"It's too bad, Marjorie. Who mide that little song on Mr. Lamb?"
"You'll never tell?"
"No."
"'Pon your honour?"
"'Pon my honour."
"It was papa, you old goosey."
"Not Mr. Coristine?"
"No, of course not."
"My I sy that it wasn't Mr. Coristine?"
"O yes, don't let them think any bad things about Eugene, poor boy."
"Good morning, Miss Carmichael," said Mr. Bigglethorpe, or rather he
bawled it; "will you come here a minute, please?"
Miss Carmichael gladly skipped down, leaving her companion a prey to the
gentleman of the morocco slippers.
"I want to clear our friend, Mr. Coristine, of a suspicion which you may
not have shired," said the fisherman. "He didn't mike that little piece
of poetry on Mr. Lamb that Marjorie and the other children sang
yesterday morning."
"Thank you, Mr. Bigglethorpe; I am very glad to hear it."
"Nasty pig!" said Marjorie to herself; "she drove Eugene away all the
same."
Meanwhile, Mr. Lamb was conversing with Miss Du Plessis.
"You don't seem to mind the doo, Miss Cecile."
"Oh, but I do," she answered.
"Your shoes are parfectly wat, sowking I should think."
"No, they are not wet through; they are thicker than you imagine."
"By the bye, where is his high mightiness, the lawyer, this mawrning?"
"Mr. Coristine has returned to the city."
"Haw, cawlled oway to some pettifogging jawb I suppowse?"
"Such as your Crown Lands case."
"Naw, you down't say, Miss Cecile, thot he's awff ofter thot jawb?"
"I cannot tell what Mr. Coristine may have to do in addition to that. He
did not confide his business to me."
"I wonder whot time the stage goes awff at!"
"It will pass the gate," said Miss Du Plessis, consulting her watch, "in
ten minutes."
"Haw, ofally onnoying you know, but I'll hov to pock up and leave before
breakfost. Please remember me to Morjorie, will you Cecile, if I shont
hov time to see her before I gow."
Mr. Lamb took his morocco slippers back to the house, and soon
reappeared at the gate, Gladstone bag and cane in hand, looking at the
approaching stage. It was filled up with a roughish crowd, all except
one seat in the back, into which he jumped. The driver flicked his
horses, and Bridesdale was relieved of the presence of Orther Lom.
"Marjorie," said Miss Du Plessis, "I have bad news for you."
"What is it, Cecile?"
"Your young man has called me by my Christian name, without even putting
Miss before it."
"Have you killed him and dug his grave with those eyes of yours?"
"No, I simply told him that Mr. Coristine had returned to Toronto,
perhaps on Crown Land business."
"Well?"
"It terrified him so, that he packed his valise forthwith and is gone."
"But how?"
"By the stage. Did you not hear the horn just now?
"No, I was too busy with that delightful Mr. Bigglethorpe. But do you
mean to tell me that Arthur has left without a farewell word to
anybody?"
"He said, 'Please remember me to Marjorie, will you, Cecile?' What do
you think of that?"
"What odious impertinence! I am glad the silly creature has gone, and,
were it not for the safety of your land, I wish he had never come."
"It was not he who saved my land, Marjorie."
"Oh, don't I know? Don't talk to me any more! You are hateful, Cecile!"
"If you can forget fifty acts of disinterested kindness, Marjorie, it
does not follow that I am to do the same." By which it will appear that
Miss Du Plessis had her orders to rub it in pretty hot to her friend,
and was rubbing it in accordingly, even though it did smart. Miss
Carmichael broke away from her, and ran to the house, leaving her once
dear Cecile to follow with Marjorie and Mr. Bigglethorpe.
At breakfast the Squire appeared quite picturesque, with a silk
handkerchief tied over his head to conceal and hold on what Marjorie
called a plaster of vinegar and brown paper, having reference to the
mishaps of Jack and Jill.
"Marjorie," said Mr. Carruthers, "ye ken what Jill got for lauchin' at
Jock's heed and the plaister."
"Yes, Uncle John, but mother isn't here to do it."
"Papa said I was to be your mother now, Marjorie," said Mrs. Carmichael.
"You've got a Marjorie of your own, Auntie, that needs to be punished
worse than me."
The colonel looked round the table anxiously, and then addressed the
hostess: "I fail to pehceive my deah friend, Mr. Cohistine, Mrs.
Cahhuthehs; I sincehely trust he is not unwell afteh his gallant fight?"
"I am sorry to say, Colonel, that Mr. Coristine has left us, and has
gone back to Toronto."
"O deah, that is a great loss; he was the life of our happy pahty,
always so cheehful, so considehate, ready to sacrifice himself and lend
a hand to anything. I expected him back on my hohse."
"Timotheus tells me that Mr. Bangs is going to bring your horse over
this evening."
"I'm gey and gled to hear 't, gudewife. I'd like weel tae hae anither
crack wi' Bangs. But it's an awfu' shame aboot Coristine; had it no'
been for his magneeficent pluck, fleein' on yon scoundrel like a lion,
I'd hae been brocht hame as deed as a red herrin'. Isna that true,
granther?"
"It's thrue, ivery worrud av it. Savin' the company, there's not a
jantleman I iver tuk to the way I tuk to that foine man, and as
simple-harrted and condiscindin' as iv he wor a choild."
"Where is that lazy boy Arthur, I wonder?" asked Mrs. Carmichael;
whereupon Miss Du Plessis told her story, and all joined in a hearty
laugh at Mr. Lamb's fright and sudden retreat.
Mr. Errol, feeling none the worse of the previous day's splore, and
still renewing his youth over the fish he and Mr. Bigglethorpe had
caught, suddenly remembered and confessed: "Dear me, Mrs. Carmichael, I
forgot that I had Mr. Coristine's merschaum, and his tobacco and
penknife. Puir lad, what'll he dae withoot his pipe?"
"You naughty man, Mr. Errol, is it possible that you smoke?"
"Whiles, mem, whiles."
"How many pipes a day, now, Mr. Errol?"
"Oh, it depends. When I'm in smoking company, I can take a good many, eh
Mr. Bigglethorpe?"
"Yesterday was a very special occaision, Mr. Errol. You called it
renewing your youth, you know, and nimed the picnic a splore."
"I felt like a laddie again at the fishing, Mrs. Carmichael, just as
light-hearted and happy as if I were a callant on the hills."
"And what do you generally feel like? Not an old man, I hope?"
"I'll never be a young one again, Mrs. Carmichael."
"Perfect nonsense, Mr. Errol! Don't let me hear you talk like that
again."
"Hearin's obeyin'," meekly replied the minister, showing that he was
making some progress in his mature wooing.
After breakfast, the company sat out on the verandah. The colonel had to
smoke his morning cigar, and courteously offered his cigar case to all
the gentlemen, who declined with thanks. "If it were not that I might
trouble the ladies," said the minister, "I might take a draw out of poor
Coristine's meerschaum." Mrs. Carmichael at once said: "Please do so,
Mr. Errol; the doctor smoked, so that I am quite used to it. I like to
see a good man enjoying his pipe."
"You are quite sure, Mrs. Carmichael, that it will not be offensive? I
would cut off my right hand rather than be a smoking nuisance to any
lady."
"Quite sure, Mr. Errol; go on and fill your pipe, unless you want me to
fill it for you. I know how to do it."
So, Mr. Errol continued the splore, and smoked the Turk's head. Mr.
Terry lit his dudheen, and Mr. Bigglethorpe, his briar. The Squire's
head was too sore for smoking, but he said he liked the smell o' the
reek. While thus engaged, a buggy drove up, and Miss Halbert and Mr.
Perrowne alighted from it, while Maguffin, always watchful, took the
horse round to the stable yard. 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."
"Then," spoke up the fisherman, "we shall have Mrs. Carmichael and Mr.
Errol, Miss Halbert and Mr. Perrowne, the colonel and Miss Carruthers,
Mr. Terry and Miss Du Plessis, and, please Mrs. Carmichael, Marjorie and
me. Can ten get into one waggon?"
"O aye," replied the Squire, "the waggon'll haud nine, and Marjorie can
sit on Mr. Bigglethorpe's knees. Hi, Timotheus, get oot the biggest
waggon wi' three seats, quick, man!"
Once more, the mighty ham was carved into sandwiches, and others were
made of sardines and marmalade. Chickens were hastily roasted, and pies
and cakes, meant for dinner and tea, stowed away in baskets, with
bottles of ale and cider and milk, and materials for tea-making, and a
huge chunk of ice out of the ice-house, and a black bottle that Mr.
Terry eyed affectionately. "This is for you old men, grandpapa," said
Mrs. Carmichael to the veteran; "now, remember, none for these boys,
Errol and Perrowne." Mr. Terry replied: "To be sure, ma'am," but thought
in his heart, would it be him that would deprive the boys of a bit of
innocent recreation at such a time. Such a looking out there was of hats
and wraps, of guns and fishing tackle. The colonel was to drive in
person. Mr. Terry was to be chief of the commissariat under Mrs.
Carmichael. Mr. Bigglethorpe was to direct fishing operations, and
bring, with the assistance of Mr. Terry, the scow and Rawdon's boat to
the Encampment lake. Marjorie was wild with delight, and insisted on
going with the grandfather and dear Mr Biggles. It was ten o'clock when
all the preparations were concluded, and Timotheus brought round the
capacious waggon. All the household assembled to see the picnic party
off, and the young Carruthers lifted up their voices and wept. The whole
ten got in, but there was no free rollicking Irish voice to sing:--
Wait for the waggon.
And we'll all take a ride.