“I trust, your little accident, which could have been of no great moment, in itself, since you escaped so well, did not have the effect to prevent you from enjoying the rare fun of this Pinkster affair?” said one of the scarlet coats, as soon as the movement caused by my reception had subsided. “You call it a 'little accident,' Mr. Bulstrode,” returned Anneke, with a reproachful shake of her pretty head, “but, I can assure you, it is not a trifle, to a young lady, to find herself in the paws of a lion.” “_Serious_ accident, then; since, I see, you are resolved to consider yourself a victim;” rejoined the other; “but, not serious enough, I trust, to deprive you of the fun?” “Pinkster fields, and Pinkster frolics, are no novelties to us, sir, as they occur every season; and I am just old enough not to have missed one of them all, for the last twelve years.” “We heard you had been 'out,” put in another red-coat, whom I had heard called Billings, “accompanied by a little army, of what Bulstrode called, the Light Infantry.” Here three or four of the other young ladies joined in the discourse, at once, protesting against Mr. Bulstrode's placing their younger sisters in the army, in so cavalier a manner; an accusation that Mr. Bulstrode endeavoured to parry, by declaring his hopes of having them all, not only in the army, but in his own regiment, one day or other. At this, there was a certain amount of mirth, and various protestations of an unwillingness to enlist; in which, I was glad to see, that neither Anneke, nor her most intimate friend, Mary Wallace, saw fit to join, I liked their reserve of manner, far better than the girlish trifling of their companions; and, I could see, that all the men respected them the more for it. There was a good deal of general and disjointed conversation that succeeded; which I shall not pretend to follow or relate, but confine myself to such observations as had a bearing on matters that were connected with myself.