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Then, on Sundays, we will take a nice dinner at the eating-house." A knocking at the door disturbed Agricola. "Come in," said he. Instead of doing so, some one half-opened the door, and, thrusting in an arm of a pea-green color, made signs to the blacksmith. "'Tis old Loriot, the pattern of dyers," said Agricola; "come in, Daddy, no ceremony."
"Oh! gracious heaven!" cried Mrs. Grivois, in an agony, whilst Father Loriot, withdrew his hand with precipitation; "I hope there is nothing poisonous in the dye that you have about you my dog is so delicate!" So saying, she carefully wiped the pug-nose, spotted with yellow. Father Loriot, not at all satisfied with this speech, when he had expected to receive some apology from Mrs.
Stopping me he said, with an air full of importance, that he thought he had seen a chap sneaking about the house like a spy, 'Well, what is that to you, Daddy Loriot? said I: 'are you afraid he will nose out the way to make the beautiful green, with which you are dyed up to the very elbows?" "But who could that man be, Agricola?" said Frances.
These poor devils live so badly, they are not worth robbing." "No game! Then let us have a game of loriot with the baby! It will be the best thing that could befall a lusty infant heretic. Ride a cock-horse to Banbury Cross. Bye, bye, baby Bunting; toss him up, and let me see if my wrist be steady." "If any man asketh who killed thee, Say 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy.*
"Dye my pet yellow!" cried Mrs. Grivois, in great wrath, as she descended from the hackney-coach, clasping My Lord tenderly to her bosom, and surveying Father Loriot with a savage look. "I told you, Mrs. Baudoin is not at home," said the dyer, as he saw the pug-dog's mistress advance in the direction of the dark staircase. "Never mind; I will wait for her," said Mrs. Grivois tartly.
"A letter from my confessor?" said Frances, in astonishment; and, as she took it, added: "Thank you, Father Loriot." "You do not want anything?" "No, Father Loriot." "My respects to the ladies!" and the dyer went out. "Mother Bunch, will you read this letter for me?" said Frances, anxious to learn the contents of the missive in question.
"A letter from my confessor?" said Frances, in astonishment; and, as she took it, added: "Thank you, Father Loriot." "You do not want anything?" "No, Father Loriot." "My respects to the ladies!" and the dyer went out. "Mother Bunch, will you read this letter for me?" said Frances, anxious to learn the contents of the missive in question.
"Yes, yes; come in, my good girl," said Agricola, whilst his father wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. The door opened, and the worthy dyer appeared, with his hands and arms of an amaranthine color; on one side, he carried a basket of wood, and on the other some live coal in a shovel. "Good-evening to the company!" said Daddy Loriot. "Thank you for having thought of me, Mme. Frances.
The warm southern winds were full of their warbling beccafico, loriot, merle, citronelle, woodlark, nightingale, every tree, copse and tuft of grass held a tiny minstrel. When the great gate opened to a fanfare of trumpets, from the castle walls there came the murmur of innumerable doves.
This time, his arms were no longer of a bright apple green, but of a magnificent violet. "Mrs. Baudoin," said Father Loriot, "here is a letter that the giver of holy water at Saint Merely's has just brought from Abbe Dubois, with a request that I would bring it up to you immediately, as it is very pressing."
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