"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 li