My uncle has a touch of gout, the Monk has got a
tutorship, Joe has gone back to his ship, but the mighty Bob has a
week's leave, and does not mean a bird to survive the change of
owners."
"Doesn't Armine come?"
"Not he!" said Bobus. "Says he doesn't want to acquire the taste,
and he would knock up with half a day."
"But you'll all come and bring us luncheon?" entreated Jock. "You
will, mother! Now, won't you? We'll eat it on a bank like old times
when we lived at the Folly, and all were jolly. I beg your pardon,
Bob; I didn't mean to turn into another poetical brother on your
hands, but enthusiasm was too strong for me! Come, Mother Carey,
_do_!"
"Where is it to be?" she asked, smiling.
"Out by the Long Hanger would be a good place," said Bobus, "where we
found the Epipactis grandiflora."
"Or the heathery knoll where poor little mother got into a scrape for
singing profane songs by moonlight," laughed Jock.
"Ah! that was when hearts were light," she said; "but at any rate
we'll make a holiday of it, for Jock's sake."
"Ha! what do I see?" exclaimed Jock, who was opposite the open
window. "Is that Armine, or a Jack-in-the-Green?"
"Oh!" half sighed Barbara. "It's that harvest decoration!" And
Armine, casting down armfuls of great ferns, and beautiful trailing
plants, made his entrance through the open window, exchanging
greetings, and making a semi-apology for his late appearance as he
said—-
"Mother, please desire Macrae to cut me the great white orchids.
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