Mrs Faucit could not restrain a smile in spite of her concern.

"Just so, Austin; but that is not the light in which the young people look at it. I was to chaperone the girls. I am thinking of them, not of myself. It will be a great disappointment."

The Dean put up his eye-gla.s.ses, and stared at the three girls in turn.

His own daughters were white with suppressed emotion, but Mildred's face was tragic in its agony of suspense. She did not say a word, but she turned her great, grey eyes upon him, piteous as those of a child who sees a surgeon standing over her, knife in hand; and as he met that glance the Dean rumpled his hair in perturbation of spirit.

"Dear me! dear me! this is very distressing. Disappointed, are they? I don't want the children to be disappointed, Evelyn! Let them enjoy themselves. If they appreciate that sort of thing, let them go by all means. Why should they stay away because you are obliged to do so?

Mrs Newland will look after them."

"My dear Dean!" Lady Sarah shook out her serviette, and raised her voice to an even shriller note than usual. "My dear Dean, you don't realise what you are saying. The girls are not children any longer; they were fifteen their last birthday. In another two years, or three at the outside, they will be in society. You cannot possibly allow them to go to a large affair of this sort without a chaperone. Mrs Newland will be occupied with her guests, and will have no time to look after them. If Evelyn is obliged to go away, let the girls stay at home.

They can surely bear a little disappointment. They will have bigger ones than this to bear as they go through life!"

"True, Sarah,--quite true; but that is the more reason why I wish to postpone them as long as possible. I don't want the girls to miss their pleasure, Evelyn! Can nothing be done? Can't you think of some plan, dear? you are so clever. Is there no other alternative?" And the kindly Dean looked at his wife with a face full of anxiety.

Mrs Faucit smiled back at him in the peculiarly sweet, rea.s.suring manner which she reserved for himself and for Erroll, the youngest member of the family--a mischievous little rascal, who employed himself in getting into trouble all day long, and in rushing to throw himself upon his mother's tender mercies after each fresh exploit.

"I think we might surely hit on some plan between us!" she said brightly. "Such a number of clever people! For instance, it ought not to be altogether impossible to provide another chaperone for the girls.

There are more people than my important self in the town, and Mrs Newland will be quite willing to accept a representative under the circ.u.mstances."

"If you mean me, Evelyn, I am not at all sure that I feel equal to the exertion. If they were going to drive from door to door, and have lunch in an hotel in reasonable fashion, it would be different; but with so many changes, and the whole day to be spent in the open air--"

"Oh, my dear Sarah, I never thought of such a thing for a moment! It would be too much to ask. You would be terribly fatigued." Mrs Faucit had caught the echo of three separate gasps of consternation, and she spoke with unusual emphasis. "Oh, no, indeed! I think it will answer all purposes if Miss Turner takes the girls in charge. Mrs Newland knows her, and it would be a pity to look any further when we have someone so suitable in the house. That will be a very good arrangement, won't it, girls?"

Then for the first time the girls' lips were opened, and they spoke. Up till now the tension of suspense had been so great that they seemed scarcely able to breathe.

"Oh, yes, Mother, it will be delightful!"

"Oh, yes, Mrs Faucit, splendid! Miss Turner will be nicer than anyone if you can't go yourself. But are you really obliged to go away? Why can't you stay at home when it is only for two days?"

"My dear Mil! and allow Father to go by himself!" Bertha waxed quite mischievous in the relief of the moment. "You don't know what an absent-minded creature he is! If Mother were not there to look after him, he would go to meet the Archbishop without a hat on his head, or stand gloating over an old bookstall in the street, until he forgot all about his appointment. Mother has to be very careful not to let him out of her sight. She writes down all that he wants to say on a piece of paper, and leads him up to the very door of the room. Then she says: 'Now, Austin, do you know whom you are going to see?' Father stares blankly, and says: 'Er--er--I really er--.' And then she says very slowly and distinctly: 'You--are--going--to--see--the--Archbishop!

You--want--to--see--him--very--badly--indeed. Here is a list of the things you want to say!' Then she thrusts the paper into his hands, pushes him inside the door, and shuts it firmly behind him. It's quite true! I know, because I have been with them."

"Eh? eh? eh? What this! what's all this?" The Dean pushed his chair from the table, and stared at his daughter with a comical expression of amused embarra.s.sment upon his face. "Upon my word, Sarah, I believe you are right! The children are growing up--they are growing up! I--I never heard such an accusation in my life! Absent-minded! Am I indeed, Miss Bertha? I see a great deal more than you imagine, young lady!"

His lips were twitching, his grave eyes twinkling with amus.e.m.e.nt. He was a Dean and a scholar whose fame was world-wide; who wrote books the very names of which Mildred was unable to understand, but he had shown himself so considerate of the young people's enjoyment, he looked, at the moment, so kindly and mischievous that a sudden wave of affection swelled within the girl's heart. Up she leapt, and bounding across the room to his side, threw her long arms round his neck, and kissed him rapturously upon the lips. It was an extraordinary liberty to take, but what followed was more extraordinary still, for the Dean returned the salute with the utmost alacrity, and keeping one arm round Mildred's waist, twirled off with her towards the door in something that was perilously,--perilously like a polka!

When he reached the doorway, and saw the old butler coming along the pa.s.sage, he shook himself free in a moment, and shuffled off to the study, looking as sober as if he had never indulged in a game of romps in his life; but when Mildred turned back into the room the twins were clapping their hands in delight, Lady Sarah struggling in vain to restrain a smile, while Mrs Faucit was laughing softly to herself, with a glimmer of tears in her eyes.

There are two sorts of tears, however, and these of the Dean's wife were certainly not those of sorrow. Perhaps she was thinking of the days when she was a girl herself, and of a certain lanky schoolboy who spent the vacations with her brothers, and who behaved in such harum-scarum fashion that an onlooker would have been ready to prophesy anything of him, rather than that he should have developed into a sober dignitary of the church!

But a day of busy preparation lay before Mrs Faucit. She had no time to waste in day-dreams, so excusing herself to Lady Sarah, she carried the girls upstairs to her room, where she proceeded to read them a gentle lecture on their behaviour for the next few days.

"Now do, dears, try to help me while I am away! I shall be miserable if I feel that things are not going on well at home, and it all depends upon you. Make up your minds that you will not allow little things to annoy you, and set yourselves to be cheerful and forbearing. The rest will follow as a matter of course. Bertha, I leave the children to you--see that they are happy. If any accident or sudden illness should happen, telegraph at once for me. Lois, you must take my place in the house. Look after the flowers, and see that a fire is lit in the small drawing-room if the weather is at all chilly. Mildred, I have a task for you too. I wonder if you can guess what it is? I am going to leave Lady Sarah in your care! Yes, really, dear--I mean it! I ask you as a favour to look upon her as your special charge while I am away--to see that she is comfortable and has all she wants. She is very old, Mildred, and in spite of her sharp manner, she appreciates kindness.

Now remember, dear, I trust you!"

"Oh, dear!" groaned Mildred; "I wish you wouldn't! I don't like it a bit. I'd much sooner arrange the flowers--mayn't I arrange the flowers, Mrs Faucit, please, and let Lois look after Lady Sarah? You said yourself I had quite a gift for arranging flowers!" Then, as Mrs Faucit only smiled and shook her head, she went off into fresh lamentations. "It's perfectly miserable that you have to go away at all. Things do happen so nastily in this world! Just as I was going home Robbie fell ill, and now the very day before the picnic this letter arrives! It's horrid. Cecile said you were going away, but I never believed you would!"

Mrs Faucit looked up sharply.

"Cecile said!" she repeated. "Cecile! What did she know about it, pray? The date of the interview was so uncertain that I have never spoken of it in the house. I hoped that, as it had been so often deferred, it might not come off until the end of the holidays. What did Cecile say?"

"Oh, not much!" replied Mildred easily. "Something about finding out what Lady Sarah was like when you went away and she was left in charge.

I said you were not going away, and she muttered something about hearing the servants talk. I really forget what it was."

Mrs Faucit wrinkled her brows, and looked perturbed. How could Cecile know of plans which had only been discussed between husband and wife?

Could it be that the Dean, in his carelessness, had left a letter on the subject lying about, and that Cecile had been unprincipled enough to read the contents? It was the only explanation of which she could think, and it was sufficiently unpleasant to send her downstairs to interview Lady Sarah with a fresh weight on her mind.

"Will you be kind enough to take care of the keys for me, Sarah?" she asked. "There are a good many valuables in the chest in the strong-room, and I should feel more comfortable if you were in charge.

James will apply to you for anything he needs, and pray do not hesitate to give him your instructions in return. By the way, Mildred has just been telling me that Cecile spoke to her some days ago of our leaving home! I can't imagine how she can have known about it. I am afraid I have never got over my first dislike to that woman, Sarah. I don't like her prying ways, and I don't like her manner to you. You are not given to spoiling your servants, but it seems to me that you are allowing Cecile to get the upper hand; and if that goes on, it will be a great mistake. She does not impress me as a woman whom it is safe to indulge!"

Lady Sarah gave an impatient toss to her head.

"Oh, my dear Evelyn!" she cried; "it is easy for you to talk. You have your husband and children, and are not dependent upon a servant. I am!

Cecile has it in her power to make my comfort or misery, and she is a capable woman, who understands my requirements. I have suffered so much from inefficient maids that I cannot afford to quarrel with one who really suits me!"

She evidently did not appreciate her friend's interference, and Mrs Faucit realised that there was no more to be said on the subject.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE PICNIC AT LAST.

The next morning Mildred awoke to find the sun pouring into her room through the uncurtained windows. A moment of sleepy confusion, and then remembrance awoke. It was the day of the picnic--the all-important day which had been dreamt of so long, and with such ardent antic.i.p.ation.

She jumped out of bed and ran to the window, to see if the sky fulfilled the promise of the sunshine. Well, not quite! the blue was broken by ominous clouds, which the wind drove along at a speed too rapid to be rea.s.suring. Mildred knew that radiant mornings had an unpleasant knack of settling down into gloomy days, but she was so anxious to think the best that she would not allow herself to dwell upon unpleasant truths.

It was enough to put anyone in good spirits to dress in that delicious blaze of sunshine, and the meeting at the breakfast-table took place under the brightest auspices.

"Isn't it a perfectly scrumptious day? Doesn't it make you want to skip and dance?" cried Mildred enthusiastically. "I feel as if I could do anything when the sun shines like this--it's so inspiring--it makes you feel so strong, and light, and well. I could jump over a mountain, I believe, if there was one in my way." She gave a spring over a stool as she spoke, by way of ill.u.s.trating her words, and might possibly have proceeded to further exploits had not Lady Sarah entered the room at that moment and taken her seat at the head of the table.

She walked with an unusually brisk tread, and her face looked less lined and tired than usual. The brilliant morning had evidently its effect upon her as well as on the younger members of the household, and so amiable did she appear that the girls went on with their rhapsodies undeterred by her presence. They laughed, and chattered, and joked in overflowing spirits, and when Lady Sarah found a chance to put in a question about the scene of the day's excursion there was a race to see who could answer first, and use the greatest number of superlatives in doing so.

"A pretty place?--Oh, exquisite! The most beautiful little village that was ever seen! A river?--Yes, indeed, the prettiest river in the world, splashing over rocks, and with the sweetest little shady paths on either side! An inn?--Rather! Like an inn in a picture--oak walls, and blue china in corner cupboards. Walks?--Everywhere! In every direction?-- Impossible to take a wrong turning where every step of the country was beautiful!"

After these rhapsodies had continued for several moments Lady Sarah's face began to a.s.sume an expression of curiosity, and she glanced out of the window from time to time, as if mentally considering some question.

"I am not quite sure about the day, the clouds look low. If it were more settled I really think I should like to come with you myself instead of Miss Turner."

Had a bomb-sh.e.l.l suddenly exploded in the room its occupants could hardly have been more bewildered than they were by the utterance of these few, quietly-spoken words, "I should like to go with you myself."

The girls held their breath, and felt stupefied with horror. They had never dreamt that this would be the result of their ecstatic description; they had imagined that the subject of a chaperone was settled once for all, and it was a terrible awakening. Bertha was the first to recover her composure. She had a strong consciousness of the importance of her position as the Dean's eldest daughter, and in her mother's absence was determined not to shirk her responsibility.

"But--but, Lady Sarah, Miss Turner has been asked. Mother has written to Mrs Newland. Do you think it would do to alter the arrangement?"

she asked earnestly, and Lady Sarah tossed her head in derision.

"My dear child, what nonsense you talk! I think Mrs Newland would have little hesitation in accepting me in Miss Turner's place; I would explain it to her myself."

"But we go for a walk in the afternoon, a long walk. You would be terribly tired."

"Nothing of the sort. I am not quite paralysed yet. Say no more on that score, if you please. I am able and willing, and shall be glad of the chance of seeing the place; but, of course if you prefer the governess--"

What could be said in answer to such a question as this? The usages of polite society forbidding a candid avowal of the truth, Bertha could only protest feebly in a weak, broken-spirited voice.