"You, and your father before you, have been very good tenants, Master Otley; no landlord need wish for better: but here comes Mrs. Mowbray. My dear, you must allow me to have the pleasure of presenting you to our new neighbour, our friend Mr. Otley's pretty wife." Mrs. Otley simpered, "Mrs. Mowbray had already done her the honour----" "You need not introduce us, Mr. Mowbray," answered Mrs. Mowbray, with a shade of asperity in her tone, which amused her husband; "I have already had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Otley's pretty farm, and her sweet little boy: Emma and I walked to Holmy-bank a few days ago, and Mr. Otley showed us all about the place." "How are the dear little calves, Mr. Otley," exclaimed Emma, "that Fanny and I were feeding?" "They are growing nicely, thank you, young ladies," replied the farmer; "and I shall be proud to show them to you again, if you would favour us with a call." "Oh! Mrs. Otley, what a pleasure the calves must be to you! I dare say you pass half the day feeding them: I am sure I should!" "They are pretty innocent creatures, indeed, miss; and if our old Daniel would keep the pens a little cleaner, I should have no objection to looking at them oftener than I do. But, if Mrs. Mowbray should honour us with another visit, I think I could show you something that would please young ladies more than such common, every-day creatures as calves. I have got two beautiful green parrots, that can chatter, and will repeat anything. And I am sure it would please you to see the curious Gothic castle, all made of shells, and the lady at the window playing on the guitar!" "Oh! I should like another walk to Holmy-bank of all things; but it would be to see the dear calves: I like them much better than parrots." "My girls are very homely in their tastes, Mrs. Otley; they are quite country lasses;" and Mrs. Mowbray glided on, a little provoked that her husband should find so much to say to such a would-be fine lady as the farmer's pretty wife: "and he has never remembered to speak once to good old Mrs. Williams, our own steward's mother," she thought, as she proceeded towards Mrs. Williams, in order to make up for his omission. The evening was now beginning to close: the cockchafers were humming under the beech-trees, and were flying into the faces and among the hair of those who had taken refuge under their shade. Much was the merriment they gave rise to, and many a rustic coquette affected a little more fear than she really felt of their harmless, though sticky, claws; while Jane Dixon laughed rather longer and louder than the occasion seemed to require. The sun had quite sunk below the horizon; and the vapours, which had been rising during the heat of the sultry day, were suddenly condensed, and hung on the lower grounds, looking silvery-white under the light of the summer moon.