"By Jove!" he said (he had not been able to break himself of that expression, more suited to the laity, which he had picked up at Oxford), "I wish he would come: we shall be too late!" and at that moment Tom rode in at the gate. After passing a little time speaking to Lizzie, who told him, too, not to "lose his heart," to which little shot Tom replied in a low voice--they had become intimate now, you see--that he had lost his already, which caused Miss Violet Eyes to blush, of course from sorrow; they at length rode off, and the promised visit was made to Lady Inskip, at Laburnum Cottage. Poor Pringle was dreadfully embarrassed during the time he was under the eyes of the three ladies, and the "young imp" Mortimer caused him to lose what little self-possession he had, by making some observation on the parting of his back hair, asking him what was the perfume on his "rag," alluding to his pocket-handkerchief, and finally by playfully pulling away his chair as he was going to sit down. He blushed all the time of his stay, although Lady Inskip was very affable to him, and the girls expressed the most intense admiration for his little church and all its belongings. The only easy moment he had when he could speak clearly was when "the darling girls," as their mother called them, came out on the lawn to admire his dapple pony, and called it "a little duck:" then Pringle had longed in his inmost heart to be that pony, for he was enraptured with the langour and beauty of Laura. Carry frightened him with her chaffy tongue, and by the way she went on with Tom, who seemed quite "at home," as he generally made himself at most places. The young men left after a lengthy stay, and the ladies very naturally, canvassed them on their departure. "What a nice fellow--regularly jolly fellow Tom Hartshorne is!" said Miss Caroline, "but the parson's a spoon!" "My dear Carry!" interposed Lady Inskip, "I do really wish you would not talk in those horrid slang terms! It is quite shocking! Mr Hartshorne is a very nice gentleman, of course, and I think Mr Pringle the same thing. He's very quiet naturally; you cannot expect a clergyman, Caroline, to be as gay and `jolly,' as you call it, as a young officer. I'm surprised at you, miss." "He preaches delightfully!" observed the beauty languidly, "and I think him very nice; he was only bashful!" "I suppose at the sight of you, Laura?" said the pert Miss Carry. "But he has one good point about him, and that is his pony. I wonder if it is up to my weight?" a very natural enquiry, as she probably weighed considerably heavier than the owner of the animal, and was what an outspoken individual would have termed "a bouncer." "I'm glad he's coming again; we shall have some croquet," continued the elder sister. "Yes, my dears," said the mother. "We must make him at home; he's a very nice young man." She had already looked upon the Oxonian as "eligible," and was bent on making him a captive of her bow and spear.