"Now, Barbara," he said in a drolly serious fashion, "if you think the Court of Chancery would seriously object, say so at once."

Lady Barbara could not keep the corners of her mouth quite stiff, but she still said, "You do not know what you are undertaking."

"Do you deliberately tell me that you think myself and f.a.n.n.y, to say nothing of young f.a.n.n.y, who is the wisest of us all, unfit to be trusted with this one young lady?" said he, looking her full in the face, and putting on a most comical air: "It is humiliating, I own."

"Ah! if Katharine were like your own daughters, I should have no fears," said the aunt. "But--However, since you are so good--if she will promise to be very careful--"

"Oh yes, yes, Aunt Barbara!"

"I make myself responsible," said Lord de la Poer. "Now, young woman, run off and get the hat; we have no time to lose."

Kate darted off and galloped up the stairs at a furious pace, shouted "Josephine" at the top; and then, receiving no answer, pulled the bell violently; after which she turned round, and obliged Adelaide with a species of dancing hug, rather to the detriment of that young lady's muslin jacket.

"I was afraid to look back before," she breathlessly said, as she released Adelaide; "I felt as if your papa were Orpheus, when

'Stern Proserpine relented, And gave him back the fair--'

and I was sure Aunt Barbara would catch me like Eurydice, if I only looked back."

"What a funny girl you are, to be thinking about Orpheus and Eurydice!" said Adelaide. "Aren't you glad?"

"Glad? Ain't I just! as Charlie would say. Oh dear! your papa is a delicious man; I'd rather have him for mine than anybody, except Uncle Wardour!"

"I'd rather have him than anyone," said the little daughter.

"Because he is yours," said Kate; "but somehow, though he is more funny and good-natured than Uncle Wardour, I wouldn't--no, I shouldn't like him so well for a papa. I don't think he would punish so well."

"Punish!" cried Adelaide. "Is that what you want? Why, Mamma says children ought to be always pleasure and no trouble to busy fathers.

But there, Kate; you are not getting ready--and we are to be at the station at ten."

"I am waiting for Josephine! Why doesn't she come?" said Kate, ringing violently again.

"Why don't you get ready without her?"

"I don't know where anything is! It is very tiresome of her, when she knows I never dress myself," said Kate fretfully.

"Don't you? Why, Grace and I always dress ourselves, except for the evening. Let me help you. Are not those your boots?"

Kate rushed to the bottom of the attic stairs, and shouted "Josephine" at the top of her shrill voice; then, receiving no answer, she returned, condescended to put on the boots that Adelaide held up to her, and noisily pulled out some drawers; but not seeing exactly what she wanted, she again betook herself to screams of her maid's name, at the third of which out burst Mrs. Bartley in a regular state of indignation: "Lady Caergwent! Will your Ladyship hold your tongue! There's Lady Jane startled up, and it's a mercy if her nerves recover it the whole day--making such a noise as that!"

"But Josephine won't come, and I'm going out, Bartley," said Kate piteously. "Where is Josephine?"

"Gone out, my Lady, so it is no use making a piece of work," said Bartley crossly, retreating to Lady Jane.

Kate was ready to cry; but behold, that handy little Adelaide had meantime picked out a nice black silk cape, with hat and feather, gloves and handkerchief, which, if not what Kate had intended, were nice enough for anything, and would have--some months ago--seemed to the orphan at the parsonage like robes of state. Kind Adelaide held them up so triumphantly, that Kate could not pout at their being only everyday things; and as she began to put them on, out came Mrs.

Bartley again, by Lady Jane's orders, pounced upon Lady Caergwent, and made her repent of all wishes for a.s.sistance by beginning upon her hair, and in spite of all wriggles and remonstrances, dressing her in the peculiarly slow and precise manner by which a maid can punish a troublesome child; until finally Kate--far too much irritated for a word of thanks, tore herself out of her hands, caught up her gloves, and flew down-stairs as if her life depended on her speed. She thought the delay much longer than it had really been, for she found Lord de la Poer talking so earnestly to her aunt, that he hardly looked up when she came in--something about her Uncle Giles in India, and his coming home--which seemed to be somehow becoming possible--though at a great loss to himself; but there was no making it out; and in a few minutes he rose, and after some fresh charges from Lady Barbara to her niece "not to forgot herself," Kate was handed into the carriage, and found herself really off.

Then the tingle of wild impatience and suspense subsided, and happiness began! It had not been a good beginning, but it was very charming now.

Adelaide and her father were full of jokes together, so quick and bright that Kate listened instead of talking. She had almost lost the habit of merry chatter, and it did not come to her quickly again; but she was greatly entertained; and thus they came to the station, where Lady de la Poer and her other three girls were awaiting them, and greeted Kate with joyful faces.

They were the more relieved at the arrival of the three, because the station was close and heated, and it was a very warm summer day, so that the air was extremely oppressive.

"It feels like thunder," said some one. And thenceforth Kate's perfect felicity was clouded. She had a great dislike to a thunder- storm, and she instantly began asking her neighbours if they REALLY thought it would be thunder.

"I hope it will," said Lady f.a.n.n.y; "it would cool the air, and sound so grand in those domes."

Kate thought this savage, and with an imploring look asked Lady de la Poer if she thought there would be a storm.

"I can't see the least sign of one," was the answer. "See how clear the sky is!" as they steamed out of the station.

"But do you think there will be one to-day?" demanded Kate.

"I do not expect it," said Lady de la Poer, smiling; "and there is no use in expecting disagreeables."

"Disagreeables! O Mamma, it would be such fun," cried Grace, "if we only had a chance of getting wet through!"

Here Lord de la Poer adroitly called off the public attention from the perils of the clouds, by declaring that he wanted to make out the fourth line of an advertis.e.m.e.nt on the banks, of which he said he had made out one line as he was whisked by on each journey he had made; and as it was four times over in four different languages, he required each damsel to undertake one; and there was a great deal of laughing over which it should be that should undertake each language.

f.a.n.n.y and Mary were humble, and sure they could never catch the German; and Kate, more enterprising, undertook the Italian. After all, while they were chattering about it, they went past the valuable doc.u.ment, and were come in sight of the "monsters" in the Gardens; and Lord de la Poer asked Kate if she would like to catch a pretty little frog; to which Mary responded, "Oh, what a tadpole it must have been!" and the discovery that her friends had once kept a preserve of tadpoles to watch them turn into frogs, was so delightful as entirely to dissipate all remaining thoughts of thunder, and leave Kate free for almost breathless amazement at the glittering domes of gla.s.s, looking like enormous bubbles in the sun.

What a morning that was, among the bright buds and flowers, the wonders of nature and art all together! It was to be a long day, and no hurrying; so the party went from court to court at their leisure, sat down, and studied all that they cared for, or divided according to their tastes. f.a.n.n.y and Mary wanted time for the wonderful sculptures on the n.o.ble gates in the Italian court; but the younger girls preferred roaming more freely, so Lady de la Poer sat down to take care of them, while her husband undertook to guide the wanderings of the other three.

He particularly devoted himself to Kate, partly in courtesy as to the guest of the party, partly because, as he said, he felt himself responsible for her; and she was in supreme enjoyment, talking freely to one able and willing to answer her remarks and questions, and with the companionship of girls of her own age besides. She was most of all delighted with the Alhambra--the beauty of it was to her like a fairy tale; and she had read Washington Irving's "Siege of Granada,"

so that she could fancy the courts filled with the knightly Moors, who were so n.o.ble that she could not think why they were not Christians--nay, the tears quite came into her eyes as she looked up in Lord de la Poer's face, and asked why n.o.body converted the Abencerrages instead of fighting with them!

It was a pity that Kate always grew loud when she was earnest; and Lord de la Poer's interest in the conversation was considerably lessened by the discomfort of seeing some strangers looking surprised at the five syllables in the squeaky voice coming out of the mouth of so small a lady.

"Gently, my dear," he softly said; and Kate for a moment felt it hard that the torment about her voice should pursue her even in such moments, and spoil the Alhambra itself.

However, her good humour recovered the next minute, at the Fountain of Lions. She wanted to know how the Moors came to have lions; she thought she had heard that no Mahometans were allowed to represent any living creature, for fear it should be an idol. Lord de la Poer said she was quite right, and that the Mahometans think these forms will come round their makers at the last day, demanding to have souls given to them; but that her friends, the Moors of Spain, were much less strict than any others of their faith. She could see, however, that the carving of such figures was a new art with them, since these lions were very rude and clumsy performances for people who could make such delicate tracery as they had seen within. And then, while Kate was happily looking with Adelaide at the orange trees that completed the Spanish air of the court, and hoping to see the fountain play in the evening, he told Grace that it was worth while taking people to see sights if they had as much intelligence and observation as Kate had, and did not go gazing idly about, thinking of nothing.

He meant it to stir up his rather indolent-minded Grace--he did not mean the countess to hear it; but some people's eyes and ears are wonderfully quick at gathering what is to their own credit, and Kate, who had not heard a bit of commendation for a long time, was greatly elated.

Luckily for appearances, she remembered how Miss Edgeworth's Frank made himself ridiculous by showing off to Mrs. J-- , and how she herself had once been overwhelmed by the laughter of the Wardour family for having rehea.r.s.ed to poor Mrs. Brown all the characters of the G.o.ds of the Northmen--Odin, Thor, and all--when she had just learnt them. So she was more careful than before not to pour out all the little that she knew; and she was glad she had not committed herself, for she had very nearly volunteered the information that Pompeii was overwhelmed by Mount Etna, before she heard some one say Vesuvius, and perceived her mistake, feeling as if she had been rewarded for her modesty like a good child in a book.

She applauded herself much more for keeping back her knowledge till it was wanted, than for having it; but this self-satisfaction looked out in another loop-hole. She avoided pedantry, but she was too much elated not to let her spirits get the better of her; and when Lady de la Poer and the elder girls came up, they found her in a suppressed state of capering, more like a puppy on its hind logs, than like a countess or any other well-bred child.

The party met under the screen of kings and queens, and there had some dinner, at one of the marble tables that just held them pleasantly. The cold chicken and tongue were wonderfully good on that hot hungry day, and still better were the strawberries that succeeded them; and oh! what mirth went on all the time! Kate was chattering fastest of all, and loudest--not to say the most nonsensically. It was not nice nonsense--that was the worst of it-- it was pert and saucy. It was rather the family habit to laugh at Mary de la Poer for ways that were thought a little fanciful; and Kate caught this up, and bantered without discretion, in a way not becoming towards anybody, especially one some years her elder. Mary was good-humoured, but evidently did not like being asked if she had stayed in the mediaeval court, because she was afraid the great bulls of Nineveh would run at her with their five legs.

"She will be afraid of being teazed by a little goose another time,"

said Lord de la Poer, intending to give his little friend a hint that she was making herself very silly; but Kate took it quite another way, and not a pretty one, for she answered, "Dear me, Mary, can't you say bo to a goose!"

"Say what?" cried Adelaide, who was always apt to be a good deal excited by Kate; and who had been going off into fits of laughter at all these foolish sallies.

"It is not a very nice thing to say," answered her mother gravely; "so there is no occasion to learn it."

Kate did take the hint this time, and coloured up to the ears, partly with vexation, partly with shame. She sat silent and confused for several minutes, till her friends took pity on her, and a few good- natured words about her choice of an ice quite restored her liveliness. It is well to be good-humoured; but it is unlucky, nay, wrong, when a check from friends without authority to scold, does not suffice to bring soberness instead of rattling giddiness. Lady de la Poer was absolutely glad to break up the dinner, so as to work off the folly and excitement by moving about, before it should make the little girl expose herself, or infect Adelaide.