Then turning to the very handsome and _distingué_-looking young gentleman who had brought her the flowers, and who had seemed much amused at the foregoing dialogue, Miss Atwood took his hand, and said to Aunt Quimby: "Let me present to you a grandson of that very Debbius, Mr. Edward Symmington, my sort of cousin; and son of Mr. Symmington, the lawyer, who chanced to marry Debbius's daughter." Young Symmington laughed, and, after telling Miss Atwood that she did everything with a good grace, he proposed that they should join some of their friends who were amusing themselves further up in the woods. Miss Atwood took his arm, and, bowing to Mrs. Quimby, they departed. "That's a very pleasant young lady," said she; "I am glad I've got acquainted with her. She's very much like her grandfather, the ironmonger; her nose is the very image of old Benny's." Fearing that _their_ turn might come next, all the young people now dispersed from the vicinity of Aunt Quimby, who, accosting a housewifely lady that had volunteered to superintend the arrangements of the table, proposed going with her to see the baskets unpacked. The remainder of the morning passed pleasantly away; and about noon, Myrtilla Cheston and her companions, returning from their ramble, gave notice that the carriages from town were approaching. Shortly after, there appeared at the entrance of the wood, several vehicles filled with ladies and gentlemen, who had preferred this mode of conveyance to coming up in the early boat. Most of the company went to meet them, being curious to see exactly who alighted. When the last carriage drew up, there was a buzz all round: "There is the Baron! there is the Baron Von Klingenberg; as usual, with Mrs. Blake Bentley and her daughters!" After the new arrivals had been conducted by the Chestons to the house, and adjusted their dresses, they were shown into what was considered the drawing-room part of the woods, and accommodated with seats. But it was very evident that Mrs. Blake Bentley's party were desirous of keeping chiefly to themselves, talking very loudly to each other, and seemingly resolved to attract the attention of every one round. "Bromley," said Mrs. Quimby, having called Captain Cheston to her, "is that a baron?" "That is the Baron Von Klingenberg." "Well, between ourselves, he's about as ugly a man as ever I laid my eyes on. At least, he looks so at that distance; a clumsy fellow, with high shoulders and a round back, and his face all over hair, and as bandy as he can be, besides; and he's not a bit young, neither." "Barons never seem to me young," said Miss Turretville, a young lady of the romantic school, "but Counts always do." "I declare even Mr. Smith is better looking," pursued Aunt Quimby, fixing her eyes on the baron; "don't you think so, Miss?" "I think nothing about him," replied the fair Turretville.