It was Saturday; the day was fresh and lovely, and there were crowds of people driving in the Park.

Once we left the carriage with Ann Coddle in it, and went to hear the music.

It was while we were sitting for a few moments under the vines to listen to it, and watch the gay groups of people around us, that a carriage passed within a dozen feet, and a lady leaned out and bowed with smiles.
"Why, see--it is your sister!" I exclaimed, with the vivacity of a person of a very limited acquaintance.
"Ah," he said, and raised his hat carelessly.

But I saw he was not pleased; he pushed the end of his moustache into his mouth, and bit it, as he always did when out of humor, and very soon proposed we should go back and find the carriage.

It was not long, however, before he recovered from this annoyance, as he had from the unexpected pleasure of Ann's company; and, I am sure, was as sorry as I when it was time to go home to dinner.
He stayed and dined with us; another gentleman had come home with my uncle, who talked well and amused us very much.