Chapter 16

Margery duly followed up her intention by arraying herself the next
morning in her loveliest guise, and keeping watch for Mr. Vine's
appearance upon the high road, feeling certain that his would form
one in the procession of carts and carriages which set in towards
Exonbury that day. Jim had gone by at a very early hour, and she did
not see him pass. Her anticipation was verified by the advent of Mr.
Vine about eleven o'clock, dressed to his highest effort; but Margery
was surprised to find that, instead of her having to stop him, he
pulled in towards the gate of his own accord. The invitation planned
between Jim and the old man on the previous night was now promptly
given, and, as may be supposed, as promptly accepted. Such a strange
coincidence she had never before known. She was quite ready, and
they drove onward at once.

The Review was held on some high ground a little way out of the city,
and her conductor suggested that they should put up the horse at the
inn, and walk to the field--a plan which pleased her well, for it was
more easy to take preliminary observations on foot without being seen
herself than when sitting elevated in a vehicle.

They were just in time to secure a good place near the front, and in
a few minutes after their arrival the reviewing officer came on the
ground. Margery's eye had rapidly run over the troop in which Jim
was enrolled, and she discerned him in one of the ranks, looking
remarkably new and bright, both as to uniform and countenance.
Indeed, if she had not worked herself into such a desperate state of
mind she would have felt proud of him then and there. His shapely
upright figure was quite noteworthy in the row of rotund yeomen on
his right and left; while his charger Tony expressed by his bearing,
even more than Jim, that he knew nothing about lime-carts whatever,
and everything about trumpets and glory. How Jim could have scrubbed
Tony to such shining blackness she could not tell, for the horse in
his natural state was ingrained with lime-dust, that burnt the colour
out of his coat as it did out of Jim's hair. Now he pranced
martially, and was a war-horse every inch of him.

Having discovered Jim her next search was for Mrs. Peach, and, by
dint of some oblique glancing Margery indignantly discovered the
widow in the most forward place of all, her head and bright face
conspicuously advanced; and, what was more shocking, she had
abandoned her mourning for a violet drawn-bonnet and a gay spencer,
together with a parasol luxuriously fringed in a way Margery had
never before seen. 'Where did she get the money?' said Margery,
under her breath. 'And to forget that poor sailor so soon!'

These general reflections were precipitately postponed by her