Ay, and his neck too, she might have added. “Yes, yes! go home! go home!” exclaimed my poor uncle. “Tell James, one of you, to bring the phaeton round. I have acted cruelly in subjecting you both to this.” “I’m not hurt,” said Curling, rubbing his back, obviously relieved by the prospect of an immediate release. “Why didn’t somebody pick up that chair?” exclaimed my uncle. “I should have done so,” replied Conny, “but I didn’t like to interrupt Theodore, for fear of breaking the thread of his ideas. Mary, go and get me my hat, it’s in mamma’s bed-room.” In a few minutes the phaeton was ready, the young couple, wearing now far cheerfuller faces than we who were left behind, jumped up, and off they drove. “The next time they come to dinner,” said my uncle, wiping his forehead with a pocket handkerchief, “shall be at somebody else’s invitation. I’ll never subject the poor things to such treatment again whilst I have breath in my body.” CHAPTER VII. _Mrs. Croaker._ “Well, if they concealed their amour, they shan’t conceal their wedding; that shall be public, I’m resolved.” _The Good-natured Man._ My aunt afterwards apologised to us for having lost her temper, but I was heartily glad my uncle had resolved not to ask the young couple to dinner again. A few scenes of this kind would hardly fail to drive Theresa away, and without Theresa, what were life? And to tell you the truth, the less I should see of Conny, the more, I felt, should I be pleased. I was so much in love with Theresa, that all reference to the past was peculiarly disagreeable. To have had Conny’s large, blue, surprised eyes watching me whilst I talked with her cousin, and cut my little jokes and looked happy, would have been more than I could bear. Next morning my uncle suggested to me that I should remain at Grove End and amuse Theresa. “She will be dull with my wife,” said he, “whose temper makes her bad company.” This proposal was perfectly agreeable to me, and I had the pleasure of spending a happier day than I firmly believe was ever passed even at Rosherville. Unfortunately, we could not ride, because Theresa’s habit had not arrived from Thistlewood; but we could walk, and talk, and pick the flowers, and lounge under the cool trees, and snatch Arcadian joys from the breezy quiet grounds.