ed
home, singing songs, one of which Mr. Perrowne gave in genuine cockney
style to a Primitive Methodist hymn tune

"Oh we was rich and 'appy once,
And we paid all we was due,
But we've sold our bed to buhy some bread,
And we hain't, got nowt to do;
We're all the way from Manchesteher.
And we hain't got nowt to do.

"Oh him as hoppresses the pooer man
Is a livin on humin' lives,
An I will be sarved in tohother land
Like Lazarius and Dives,
And will be sarved in tohother land
Like Lazarius and Dives."

Mr. Errol applauded the song, but thought it was hardly right to put a
hymn tune to it. He said he "minded an auld Scotch song aboot the
barrin' o' the door." So he sang:--

"It fell aboot the Martimas time,
And a gay time it was then O,
When our gude wife got puddins to mak',
And she biled them in the pan O.
The barrin' o' oor door weel, weel, weel.
And the barrin' o' oor door, weel."

Thus, lightening the journey, they arrived at the last lake, said
how-d'ye-do to the Richards, and tramped home. "How are you feeling now,
Mr. Errol?" asked his comrade. "Man, it's just as I tellt ye, I'm
renewin' my youth."

It was just about six when the pedestrians arrived at Bridesdale. Mr.
Newberry had been there, anxious about his charge, and had joyfully
hailed her appearance in the waggon. Mr. Bigglethorpe insisted on going
home; so, after a whispered consultation with Miss Halbert, Mr. Perrowne
offered him the doctor's carriage, if he would call in and tell Dr.
Halbert that his daughter and all the Bridesdale people were safe, which
he agreed to do. The colonel and Miss Du Plessis were up with the dear
boy, whose name and virtues Miss Carmichael could hardly hear mentioned
with civility. Marjorie fairly wept over the leave-taking of Mr.
Biggles, but commanded herself sufficiently to beg that he would not
christen that baby Woollens, Cottons or Piscopalian. He said
emphatically that he would not, and then departed, taking home a string
of bass to propitiate Mrs. Bigglethorpe. The tea party, spite of Miss Du
Plessis' marvellous story of Tillycot, was very slow. The newly engaged
couple were full of each other. Mrs. Du Plessis, her daughter and the
colonel had Wilkinson on the brain, Mrs. Carmichael and the minister
were self-sufficient, and Mr. Terry was discoorsin' to his daughter,
Honoria. The only free pe