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Mrs Sudberry made no objection; so Mr Sudberry, accompanied by George and Fred, went down to the "dear old river," as they styled it, for the last time. Now it must be known, that, some weeks previous to this time, Hobbs had been allowed by his master to go out for a day's trout-fishing, and Hobbs, failing to raise a single fin, put on a salmon fly in reckless desperation.
In the midst of this they reached the landing-place, from which they walked through drenched heather and blinding rain to the White House. Thus, drearily, the picnic ended! One morning the Sudberry Family sat on the green hill-side, in front of the White House, engaged in their usual morning amusement feeding the cocks and hens.
"Does she never go to bed?" whispered George, as they approached and found the old woman moping over her fire, and swaying her body to and fro, with the thin dirty gown clinging close to her figure, and the spotlessly clean plaid drawn tightly round her shoulders. "Good-evening, old woman," said Mr Sudberry, advancing with a conciliatory air. "It's mornin'," retorted the old woman with a scowl.
A flash of lightning would have been a positive blessing. Mr Sudberry at once suggested that it must be a stream, and that they could follow its course wade down its bed, if necessary till they should arrive at "something!"
But recollecting suddenly that he had three spare top-pieces in the butt, his heart was cemented and bound up, so to speak, in a rough and ready manner. Next, he stepped into a hole, which turned out to be three feet deep, so that he was instantly soaked up to the waist. Being extremely hot, besides having grown quite reckless, Mr Sudberry did not mind this; it was pleasantly cooling.
"Here's a gate, I believe," cried George, groping about. It was a gate, and it opened upon the road! For the first time for many hours a gleam of hope burst in upon the benighted wanderers. Presently a ray of light dazzled them. "What! do my eyes deceive me a cottage?" cried Mr Sudberry. "Ay, and a witch inside," said George. "Why, it's old no, impossible!"
Fred was up in a moment. About two hours later, father and sons sallied out for a day's sport, George with a fowling-piece, Fred with a sketch-book, and Mr Sudberry with a fishing-rod, the varnish and brass-work on which, being perfectly new, glistened in the sun.
"Well, not just that, but I do manage to fill a basket now and then, an' whiles to land a g'ilse." "A gilse!" cried George in surprise, "what is that?" "It is a small salmon " "Oh! you mean a grilse," interposed Mr Sudberry. "Yes, I mean that, an' I said that," returned McAllister, slowly and with emphasis.
He ducked to the first, parried the second, and returned with such prompt good-will on the gypsy's right eye, that he was again sent staggering back against the wall; from which point of observation he stared straight before him, and beheld Mr Sudberry in the wildness of his excitement, performing a species of Cherokee war-dance in the middle of the road.
That evening Mr Sudberry, having spent the day in a somewhat excited state having swept everything around him, wherever he moved, with his coat-tails, as with the besom of destruction having despatched a note to the nearest constabulary station, and having examined the bolts and fastenings of the windows of the White House sat down after supper to read the newspaper, and fell fast asleep, with his head hanging over the back of his chair, his nose turned up to the ceiling, and his mouth wide open.
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