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"But it's the piper I want to meet." "Mrs. Windale and I will go up to the throne and present ourselves, if you don't, Allen," Blackburn cried. "Dr. Allen," exclaimed Rosalie's sister, with laughing impatience, "do introduce us. Guy will rave about her all the way home, and bore us to death, if he doesn't get his own way."
But he longed, more than ever, to knock him down. "Yes," he answered shortly, "I know her." "You do! Oh, come, now! You've simply got to introduce us. Hasn't he, Mrs. Windale? Do make him." "I should like to meet the young lady," said Rosalie's aunt graciously. "She is very beautiful. Don't you think so, Rose?" "Oh, yes, I suppose so, rather," said Rosalie dryly.
Of these I but remember tall old Miss Wintletop, most entertaining of rustic old maids, with her nice lace and thick satin, and her small, kindly round face pretty, I dare say, in other days, and now frosty, but kindly who told us such delightful old stories of the county in her father's and grandfather's time; who knew the lineage of every family in it, and could recount all its duels and elopements; give us illustrative snatches from old election squibs, and lines from epitaphs, and tell exactly where all the old-world highway robberies had been committed: how it fared with the chief delinquents after the assizes; and, above all, where, and of what sort, the goblins and elves of the county had made themselves seen, from the phantom post-boy, who every third night crossed Windale Moor, by the old coach-road, to the fat old ghost, in mulberry velvet, who showed his great face, crutch, and ruffles, by moonlight, at the bow window of the old court-house that was taken down in 1803.
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