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dismal and depressed from the reaction that he sat in his armchair all day and did nothing but grumble and burst into tears, for, you see, he'd overdone it, and it was bound to tell upon him. But after that all his natural pluck and determination got hold of him again, and if he wasn't mad to have that dance that they had been balked of! Out he went to beat up all the old folks again; but most of 'em were ill in bed--none the better for that picnic, I can tell you, though, luckily, it had been a lovely day and night, as warm as toast, so that they hadn't come to much harm beyond the exhaustion. The younger people of the houses where he called met him with black looks enough, you may be sure, but old Joe Wilkings wasn't the sort to be daunted by that sort of thing; and bless me if he didn't succeed in getting at most of those old parties again, and even getting some of them out of bed and putting them through their paces as before. [Illustration: DR. PILLIKIN. MR. SARME. MR. WEAZLE.] It was really getting serious, so Mr. Sarme, the vicar, and Mr. Weazle, the curate, and Doctor Pillikin (who lived in the house with the brown shutters then, before he moved next door to the stores) went and tried to get him out of the houses and make him keep quiet; but old Joe roared at them that way that they were glad to get away home again in despair. Ah, he _was_ a plucky one, was old Joe! Well, he persevered and kept at it until he had persuaded all those old parties to get up a dance in the schoolroom; they were to have printed programmes, and champagne, and everything in style--for Joe had a bit of money, and was as free as you like with it, and meant to stand a good deal more than his share of the expenses. Then the vicar and Doctor Pillikin consulted with the squire--the squire and the vicar being justices of the peace--whether they hadn't better give old Joe in charge and lock him up out of harm's way; for he was getting a regular firebrand, don't you see; and they were afraid he'd be the death of those old folks. But, after they'd consulted, they couldn't hit on any legal excuse for charging him--(not that that little obstacle mostly stands in the way of justices of the peace)--and they had to give that up. When the day arrived for the ball--for they called it a "ball" now, bless you--all the young people agreed together to lock the old parties in their rooms to prevent them going; but bless me if old Peter Scrou
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