This was deeply provoking, for I had got on a new pair of riding trousers, which had cost money, and a new white hat with a blue net veil (rather a neat thing too), and I had ridden up to the house under the idea that fourteen or fifteen persons were looking at me out of window.

I had also tickled my old horse, Chanticleer, to make him caper and show the excellency of my seat.

But when I came to remember that the old horse had nearly bucked me over his head instead of capering, and to find that my hat was garnished with a large cobweb of what is called by courtesy native silk, with half-a-dozen dead leaves sticking in it, I felt consoled that no one had seen me approach, and asked the housekeeper, with tolerable equanimity, where they were all gone.
They were all gone, she said, over to Captain Brentwood's, and goodness gracious knew when they would be back again.

Mrs.Hawker and Mr.
Charles were gone with them.

For her part, she should not be sorry when Mr.Sam brought Miss Brentwood over for good and all.