They were sitting on the bench with their backs against the open window of Emily’s bedroom (the little chamber on the left front, that I have described). He now felt his ears grasped from behind and his head well shaken. Sophie raised her eyes and saw the white dress, black curls, and merry face of his sister stooping from the window over him. “Sophie, is it? Impudence! Well, Sophie, let him call you what he will—but don’t you call him Augustus—there is nothing august about him, call him ‘Gusty,’ or ‘Gusty Wilde,’ for look you!” said she, pulling back his head, and kissing his brow, “there is so much latent strength and fire in this young man’s veins that it is extremely apt to break out in storms—just watch him in controversy with Mr. Withers—the sudden anger will dart from his eyes like a spring lancet from its sheath!” She shook him again, and let him go. “Oh! the atrocious medical simile!—like ‘lightning from a mountain cloud,’ you meant.” “Like a pea from a pop-gun, more likely. Now, Miss Churchill, he said your air and manner _revealed_ ‘Sophie’—very well—every glance, and start, and spring, every interjection and exclamation in his looks, gestures, and conversation _exposes_ ‘Gusty Wilde.’” “_Now_, Miss Churchill, do you believe that?” inquired he, with mock seriousness. “No, I am sure—” began Sophie. “You are sure of nothing—he is on his good behavior now; wait and see. But that is not what I broke in upon you for, Mr. Wilde—I have come to invite you and Miss Churchill to ride with me this morning. We will borrow the parson’s gig, and come, I will be good. You shall drive Sophie, and I will ride FireFly, my pony. Come, run, Sophie, smoothe your hair, it is a little blown about by the breeze, and put on your bonnet. And _you_, Master Lieutenant, be so kind as to don your undress uniform at least—what is the good of having a brother in the Navy, if he dress like an undertaker at a funeral? Come! I want to show you off; I want to get half the girls in the neighborhood in love with you. Dear me! Am I not rich just now? Two beaux—the best of beaux for a country neighborhood—a preacher and an officer. Mercy! I shouldn’t wonder if my house became the resort of all the merry maidens and manœuvring mammas in —— county.” They made many calls that day before returning to a late dinner. The last house they called at was Mrs. Gardiner Green’s, where they were received and entertained by that lady and her pretty daughter Rose. The next day was Sunday, and they all went to church. Lieutenant Wilde sat between his sister and Miss Churchill in the front pew; there was an expression of serious joy upon the faces of the youth and maiden never seen there before—the minister, perhaps, never was less happy in his written sermon or its delivery, than upon this occasion. He had brought Sophie to church in his gig; at the close of the service he took her home to the Grove.