Dolores vouchsafed no answer, but Aunt Jane said--

'All which applies doubly to you, Lily.'

'Not a bit; I am not run about like all of you,' she answered, brightly.

'Besides, it is such fun! I feel like Whit Monday at Beechcroft! Don't you remember the pink and blue glazed calico banners crowned with summer s...o...b..a.l.l.s? And the big drum? What a nice-looking set of girls! How pleasant to see rosy, English faces tidily got up! They were rosy enough in Ireland, but a great deal too picturesque. Now these are a sort of flower of maidenhood--'

'You are getting quite poetical, Lily.'

'It's the effect of walking in procession--there's something quite exhilarating in it; ay, and of having a bit of old Beechcroft about me.

Do tell me who that lady is; I ought to know her, I'm sure! Oh, Miss Smith, good morning. How many girls have you brought? Oh! the crimson rosettes, are they? York and Lancaster?--indeed. I'm glad we have some shelter for them; I'm afraid there is another shower. Have you no umbrella, my dear? Come under mine.'

It was a fierce scud of hail, hitting rather than wetting, but Dolores had the satisfaction of declaring the edges of her dress to be damp and going off to change it, though Aunt Jane pinched the kilting and said the damp was imperceptible, and Wilfred muttered, 'Made of sugar, only not so sweet.'

In fact, she hoped that Constance, who had told of her hatred to these great functions and willingness to do anything to avoid them, would avail herself of the excuse; but though the young lady must have seen her go, she never attempted to follow; and Dolores, feeling her own room dull, came down again to find the drawing-room empty, and on the next gleam of sunshine, she decided on going to seek her friend.

What a hum and buzz pervaded the stable-yard! There was a coach-house with all its great doors open, and the rows of girls awakening from their first shy and hungry silence into laughter and talking. There were big urns and fountains steaming, active hands filling cups, all the cousins, all their congeners, and four or five clergymen acting as waiters, Aunt Adeline pouring out tea a the upper table for any a.s.sociate who had time to swallow it, and Constance Hacket talking away to a sandy-haired curate, without so much as seeing her friend! Only Wilfred, at sight of his cousin again, getting up a violent mock cough, declaring that he thought she had gone to bed with congealed lungs or else Brown t.i.tus, as the old women called it. His mother, however, heard the cough--which, indeed, was too remarkable a sound not to attract any one--and with a short, sharp word to him to take care, she put Dolores down under Aunt Ada's wing, and provided her with a lovely peach and a delicious Bath bun. Constance just looked up and nodded, saying, 'You dear little thing, I couldn't think what was become of you,' and then went on with her sandy curate, about--what was it?--Dolores know not, only that it seemed very interesting, and she was left out of it.

Down came the rain, a hopeless downpour, and there was a consultation among the elders, some laughing, some doubtful looks, and at last Harry, with Macrae and one of the curates, disappeared. Then grace was sung, and speeches followed--one by the rector, Mr. Leadbitter, fatherly and prosy;--a paper read by the Branch Secretary, about affairs in general; and a very amusing speech by Miss Mohun, full of anecdotes of example and warning. 'You know,' she said, 'all the school story-books end--when the grown up books marry their people--with the good girl going out to service under her young lady, and there she lives happy ever after! But some of us know better! We don't know how far the marrying ones always do live very happy ever after--'

'For shame, Jenny!' muttered Lady Merrifield.

'But,' went on Miss Mohun, 'even you that have been lucky enough to get under your own young ladies know that life here is all new beginnings at the bottom, just as when you were very proud of yourselves for getting out of the infant school, you found it was only being at the bottom of the upper one; and I can tell the twelve-year-olds--I see some of them--that it is often a finer thing to be at the head of the school than the last in the house. Ay, you've got to work up there again, and it is a long business and a steady business, but it is to be done. I knew a girl, thirty-five years ago, that my sister-in-law took from school, and she was not a genius either, and I am quite sure she could not do rule-of-three, nor tell what is the capital of Dahomey, as I dare say every one here can do, but I'll tell you what she did, and that was, her best, and there she has been ever since; and the last time I saw her was sitting up in her housekeeper's room, in her silk gown, with her master's grandchildren hanging about her, respected and loved by us all.

And I knew another, a much clever girl at school, with prettier ways to begin with, but--I'm sorry to say, her finger were too clever, and it was not very happy ever after, though she did right herself.' And then Aunt Jane went on to the difficulties of having to deal with such quant.i.ties of pots and pans, and knives and forks, and cloths and brushes, each with a use of its very own, just as if she had been a scullery-maid herself; telling how sense and memory must be brought to bear on these things just as much as in a.n.a.lyzing a sentence, and how even those would not do without the higher motive of faithfulness to Him whose servants we all are. Her finish was a picture of the roving servant girl, always saying, 'I don't like it,' and always seeking novelty, ill.u.s.trated by her experience of a little maid who left one place because she could not sleep alone, and another because the little girl slept with her, a third because it was so lonesome, and a fourth because it was so noisy, and quitted her fifth within a half year because she could not eat twice cooked meat.

Aunt Jane varied her voice in the most comical way, and the girls, as well as all her audience, laughed heartily.

'Bravo, Jenny!' said a voice close to her, and a gentleman with a rather bald head, a fluffy, light beard touched with white, dancing eyes, and a slim, youthful figure, was seen standing in the group.

Lady Merrifield and her sisters cried with one glad voice, 'Oh!

Rotherwood!' holding out their hands.

'Yes. I found I'd a few hours between the trains, so I ran down to look you up. I met Harry at the house, and he told me I should find Jane qualifying for the female parliament.'

'It's such a pity you should fall on all this turmoil,' said Aunt Ada.

'Pity! I wouldn't have missed Jenny's wisdom for the world. What is it, Lily? Temperance, or have you set up a Salvation Army?

'G.F.S., of course, you Rotherwood of old! And now you are come, you shall save me from what has been my bugbear for the last week. You shall give the premiums.'

'Come, it's no use making faces and pretending you know nothing about it,' added Miss Mohun. 'I know very well that Florence is deep in it!'

'Ay, they'll have you over to repeat that splendid harangue about pots and pans!' said he, bowing at Lady Merrifield's introductions of him to the bystanders, and obediently accepting the sheaf of envelopes, while Mr. Leadbitter made it known that the premiums would be given by the Marquess of Rotherwood. Certainly it was a much more lively business than if Lady Merrifield had performed it, for he had something droll to observe to each girl. One he pretended to envy, telling her he had worked hard for may a year, and never got such a card as that for it--far less five shillings. Another he was sure kept her pans bright, and always knew which was which; a very little one was asked if she had gone from her cradle, and so on, always sending them away with a broad smile, and professing great respect for the three seven-year-card maidens who came up last. Then in a concluding speech he demanded--where were the premiums for the mistresses, who, he was quite sure, deserved them quite as much or more than the maids!

While everybody was still laughing, Lady Merrifield asked Mr. Leadbitter to explain that as it was still raining hard, she must ask all to adjourn to the great loft over the stable, where they could enjoy themselves. Each a.s.sociate was to gather her own flock and bring them in order. Lady Merrifield said she would lead the way, Lord Rotherwood coming with her, picking up little Primrose in his arms to carry her upstairs to the loft.

Every one was moving. Dolores was among a crowd of strangers. She heard them saying how delightful Lord Rotherwood was, and charming and handsome and graceful Lady Merrifield, with her beautiful eyes. It worried Dolores, who thought it rather foolish to be pretty, except in the case of persecuted orphan, and, moreover, admiration of her aunt always seemed to her disparagement of her mother. And where was Constance?

She followed the stream, and, climbing some stairs, came out into a large, long, empty hay-loft, over what had once been hunting stables--the children's wet-day play-place. The deputation dispatched to the house had managed to get up there the schoolroom piano, and one of the curates sat down to it, and began playing dance music, while Miss Mohun, Miss Hacket, and the other ladies began arranging couples for a country dance--all girls, of course, except that Lord Rotherwood danced with the tiny premium girl, and Harry with Primrose. Wilfred and Fergus could not be incited to make the attempt; Mysie offered herself to Dolores, but in vain. 'I hate dancing,' was all the answer she got, and she went off to persuade Lois, the nursery girl. Constance Hacket arranged herself on a chair, and looked out from between two curates; there was no getting at her.

Then there came a pause; Lord Rotherwood spoke to Gillian, and must have asked her to point Dolores out, for presently he made his way to the little dark figure in the window, and, kindly laying his hand on her shoulder, asked whether she had heard from her father yet.

'No, I suppose you can't,' he added. 'It is a great break-up for you; but you are a lucky girl to be taken in here! It reminds me of what Beechcroft used to be to me when I was a stray fish, though not quite so lonely as you are. Make the most of it, for there aren't many in these days like Aunt Lily there!'

'He little knows,' thought Dolores, as a waltz began to be played.

'They want an example,' he said. 'Come along. You know how, I'm sure--a Londoner like you!'

Pairs were whirling about the floor in full career in a short time, to the astonishment of other maidens who had never seen dancing in their lives. Dolores, afraid to refuse, and certainly flattered, really was wonderfully exhilarated and brightened by her career wither good-natured cousin.

'I do believe Cousin Rotherwood has shaken her out of the dumps,'

observed Gillian to Aunt Jane, who returned--

'He can do it if any one can.'

The funny thing was the effect upon Constance, who, in the next pause, shook off her curates, advanced to Dolores, who was recovering her breath under the window, called her a dear thing whom she had not been able to get to all this time, sat rather forward with an arm round her waist for the next half-hour, and, when Sir Roger de Coverley was getting up, proposed that they should be partners, but not till she had seen Lord Rotherwood pair himself off with Mysie.

'I must,' said he to Lady Merrifield, 'it's so like dancing with honest Phyl.'

'The greatest compliment you could have, Mysie,' said her mother, looking very much pleased.

The last yellow patches of evening sunshine on the sloping roof faded; watches were looked at, the music turned to the National Anthem, everybody stood up, or stood still, and sung it. Then at the close, Mr.

Leadbitter stood by the piano and said--

'One word more, my young friends. Some of you may have been surprised at this evening's amus.e.m.e.nt, but we want you to understand that there is no harm in dancing itself, provided that the place, the manner, and the companions are fit. I hope that you will all prove the truth of my words, by not taking this pleasant evening as an excuse for running into places of temptation. Now, good night, with many thanks to Lady Merrifield for the happy day she has given us.'

A voice added, 'Three cheers for Lady Merrifield!' and the G.F.S. showed itself by no means backward in the matter of cheering. There was a hunting up of ulsters and umbrellas; one a.s.sociate after another got her flock together, and clattered downstairs, either to get into vans, to walk to the station, or to disperse to their homes in the town.

Meantime Lord Rotherwood had time to explain that he was on his way to fetch his wife home from some German baths, where she had gone to recruit after the season; and, as he meant to cross at night, had come to spend a few hours with his cousin. There was still an hour to spare, during which Lady Merrifield insisted that he must have more solid food than G.F.S. provided.

'Lily,' said Miss Mohun, as the elders walked to the house together, 'it strikes me that Rotherwood could satisfy your mind about that letter. He would know the handwriting. You remember a certain brother--very much in law--of Maurice's?'

'I have reason to do so,' said Lord Rotherwood. 'You don't mean that he has been troubling Lily?'

'No; but from the nature of the animal it is much to be apprehended that he will,' said Miss Mohun, 'if he knows that the child is here.'

'In fact,' said Lady Merrifield, 'Jane has made me suppress, till examination, a letter to her, in case it should be from him. It is a horrid thing to do. What do you think, Rotherwood?'

'There should be no correspondence. Did not Maurice warn you? Then he ought. Look here, Lily. His wife--under strong compulsion from the fellow, I should think--begged me to find some employment for him. I got him a secretaryship to our Board of--what d'ye call it? I'll do Maurice the justice to say that he was considerably cool about it; but the end of it was that there was an unaccountable deficit, and my lady said it served me right. I was a fool, as I always am, and gave way to the poor woman about not bringing it home to him. And she insisted on making it up to me by degrees--out of her literary work, I fancy--for I don't think Maurice knew the extent of the peculation. Ever since I've been getting begging letters from the fellow at intervals. If he had the impertinence to molest you, Lily, simply refer him to me.'

'And if he writes to the child?'

'Return him the letter. Say she can have no such thing without her father's consent.'

'Is this a case in point?' said Lady Merrifield, producing the letter.

'No,' said he, holding it up in the waning light. 'I know the fellow's fist too well! This is a gentleman's hand.'

'What a relief!' said Lady Merrifield.