"You are all a parcel of riddles, Pen; what has 'amen' to do with your affairs. I say, Pen, what's all this with Spottiswoode?" Miss Wycherly tried to answer her cousin's question lightly, but she burst into tears. "Oh, ho, that's it, Pen, is it?" Tom Pynsent pronounced the words slowly, as if awakened to some new idea gradually. "All must end well, be firm, and amen. I see something now, by Jove." His cousin made no reply, but the tears coursed down her cheeks. Tom Pynsent was sorry for her, and he put his arm round her waist, to suit the action to the word. "Never mind, Pen; if you've quarrelled, touch your swain up with a bit of sugarcandy as you go to Shrewsbury. Pitch it in smoothly, Pen, and Spottiswoode will turn like the sunflower. Don't cry, cousin Pen, it makes me dismal--d--n it, don't cry!" Mrs. Pynsent underwent considerable anxiety during the _tête-à-tête_, but, when her son became tender, her interference became imperative. "Tommy, what are you squeezing your cousin there about, when you are nearly married; secrets are ill-bred things, Master Tommy." Miss Wycherly's distress became apparent, and she threw open the window; her cousin good-humouredly and awkwardly endeavoured to conceal her from observation, by pointing out the beauties of the view. "There, Pen, are the trees I spoke of, (clear up and dry your eyes, Pen) and my father talks of planting upon that hill, (don't let any one guess you are down in the mouth, Pen). I think I like it best as it now stands. Spottiswoode, Tyndal, give me your opinion." The gentlemen were soon engaged in disputing the propriety of planting, or not planting a fine swell in the park, each arguing upon their opinions, enabling Miss Wycherly to recover some degree of composure; and, when her well-appointed equipage drove to the door, she was able to perform her adieus with tolerable calmness. Tom Pynsent offered his arm to Lady Spottiswoode. "Now, my lady, three gentlemen can't cut themselves down into two, so I shall take charge of you, while they fight for your daughter and Pen." Mr. Spottiswoode stood irresolute for an instant, but the Mr. Tyndals took possession of Miss Spottiswoode; neither of those gentlemen approached Miss Wycherly. Mr. Spottiswoode was, of course, under the necessity of leading her to the carriage, but it took place in profound silence. Tom Pynsent, now awake to his cousin's state of mind, managed every thing for her. "There, ladies, you are comfortable. Pen, let me place _you_ comfortably upon your throne." Mrs. Pynsent screamed from the drawing-room window, "I say, Tom, put Pen inside!" Tom Pynsent, however, seated his cousin safely on the "throne," as she had always designated the coach-box, and Mr. Spottiswoode took his seat by her side; the Mr. Tyndals also mounted their horses, and rode away. Mr. Spottiswoode paused to admit of Tom Pynsent's careful arrangement of his cousin's box-cloak, but Mrs. Pynsent again screamed from the window:--