'Lessons?' said Fly; 'but it's holiday-time?'

'Mamma always makes us do a sort of little lesson, even in the holidays, as she says we get naughty. But I suppose you need not; and perhaps she will not make us now you are here.'

Colonel Mohun and Lord Rotherwood were going to Darminster to see what was the state of the investigation about Mr. Flinders. They set out directly after breakfast, and after the feeding of the pets, where Valetta joined them, much consoled by the prospect of the extemporary b.u.t.terfly's Ball at home, Lady Phyllis, with her usual ready adaptability, repaired with the others to the schoolroom, where the Psalms and Lessons were read, and a small amount of French reading in turn from 'En Quarantaine' followed, with accompaniment of needlework or drawing, after which the children were free.

Aunt Jane was going home to her Sunday school and the Rockstone festivities. She came down for her final talk with her sister just in time to perceive the folding up of three five-pound notes.

'Lily,' she said, with instant perception, 'I could beat myself for what I told you yesterday.'

Lady Merrifield laughed. 'The girls are very good about it!' she said.

'Now you have found it out, see whether that note will make Miss Hacket swallow it.'

'Can't be better! But oh. Lily, it is disgusting! Could not I rig up something fanciful for the children?'

'That's not so much the point. 'The General's lady,' as Mrs. Halfpenny would say, is bound not to look like 'ane scrub,' as she would be unwelcome to Victoria, and what would be William's feelings? I could hardly have accomplished it even with this, and the catastrophe settles the matter.'

'You could not get into my black satin?'

'No, I thank you, my dear little Brownie,' said Lady Merrifield, elongating herself like a girl measuring heights.

'Ada has a larger a.s.sortment, as well as a taller person,' continued Miss Jane, 'but then they are rather 'henspeckle,' and they have all made their first appearance at Rotherwood.'

'No, no, thank you, my dear, Jasper would not like the notion--even if there was not more of me than of Ada. I have no doubt it is much better for us.'

'Should you have liked it, Lily?'

'For once in a way. For Rotherwood's sake, dear old fellow. Yes, I should.'

'Ah, well! You are a bit of a grande dame yourself. Ada enjoys it, too, or I don't think I ever should go there.'

'Surely Victoria behaves well to you?'

'Far be it from me to say she is not exemplary in her perfect civility to all her husband's relations. Ada thinks her charming; but oh. Lily, you've never found out what it is to be a little person in a great person's house, and to feel one's self scrupulously made one of the family, because her husband is so much attached to all of them. There's nothing spontaneous about it! I dare say you would get on better, though You are not a country-town old maid; you would have an air of the world and of distinction even if you went in your old grey poplin.'

'Well, I thought better of my lady.'

'You ought not! She makes great efforts, I am sure, and is a pattern of graciousness and cordiality--only that's just what riles one, when one knows one is just as well born, and all the rest of it. And then I'm provided with the clever men, and the philanthropical folk to talk to. I know it's a great compliment, and they are very nice, but I'd ten times rather take my chance among them. However, now I've made the grapes sour for you, what do you think about Dolores? Will you send her to us?'

'Not immediately, at any rate, dear Jane. It is very kind in you to wish to take her off our hands, but I do want to try her a little longer. I thought she seemed to be softening last night.'

'She was as hard as ever when I went in to wish her good-bye.'

'I thought she had too much headache for conversation when I went in last; I think this is a regular upset from unhappiness and reserve.'

'Alias temper and deceitfulness.'

'Something of both. You know the body often suffers when things are not thrown out in a wholesome explosion at once, but go simmering on; and I mean to let this poor child alone till she is well.'

'Ah! here comes the pony-carriage. Well, Lily, send her to me if you repent.'

The sisters came out to find the b.u.t.terfly's Ball in full action. Fly had become a b.u.t.terfly by the help of a battered pair of fairy wings, stretched on wire, which were part of the theatrical stock. 'The shy little Dormouse' was creeping about on all fours under a fur jacket, with a dilapidated boa for a long tail, but her 'blind brother the Mole'

had escaped from her, and had been transformed into the Frog, by means of a spotted handkerchief over his back, and tremendous leap-frog jumps.

Primrose, in another pair of fairy wings, was personating the Dragon-fly and all his relations, 'green, orange, and blue.' Valetta, in perfect content with the present, with a queer pair of ears, and a tail made of an old brush, sat up and nibbled as Squirrel. The Gra.s.shopper was performing antics which made him not easily distinguishable from the Frog, and the Spider was actually descending by a rope from the bal.u.s.ters, while his mother, standing somewhat aghast, breathed a hope that 'poor Harlequin's' fall was not part of the programme. But she did not interfere, having trust in the gymnastics that were studied at school by Jasper, who had been beguiled into the game by Fly's fascinations.

'A far more realistic performance than the Rotherwood b.u.t.terfly's Ball is likely to be,' said Aunt Jane, aside, as the various guests came up for her departing kiss. 'And much more entertaining, if they could only think so. Where's Gillian?'

Gillian appeared on the stairs in her own person at the moment. She said Mrs. Halfpenny had called her, and told her that 'Miss Dollars' was crying, and that she did not think the child ought to be left alone long to fret herself, but Sat.u.r.day morning needments called away nurse herself, so she had ordered in Miss Gillian as her subst.i.tute. Gillian was reading to her, and had only come away to make her farewells to Aunt Jane.

'That is right, my dear,' said her mother; 'I will come and sit with her after luncheon.'

For the whole youthful family were to turn out to superintend the replantation of the much-enduring fir, which, it was hoped, might survive for many another Christmas.

However, Lady Merrifield could not keep her promise, for a whole party of visitors arrived just after the children's dinner was over.

'And it's old Mrs. Norgood,' sighed Gillian, looking over the bal.u.s.ters, 'and she always slays for ages!'

'One of you young ladies must bide with Miss Dollars,' said Nurse Halfpenny, decidedly, 'or we shall have her fretting herself ill again.'

'Oh, nursie, can't you?' entreated Gillian.

'Me, Miss Gillian! How can I, when Miss Primrose is going out with the whole clamjamfrie, and all the laddies, into the wet plantations?

Na--one of ye maun keep the la.s.sie company. Ye've had your turn, Miss Gillian, so it should be Miss Mysie. It winna hurt ye, bairn, ye that hae been rampaging ower the house all the morning.'

Mysie knew it was her turn, but she also knew that nurse always favoured Gillian and snubbed her. She had a devouring longing to be with her dear Fly, and a certain sense that she was the preferred one. Must another pleasure be sacrificed to that very naughty Dolores, whose misdemeanours had deprived them of the visit to Rotherwood. She looked so dismal that Gillian said good-naturedly, 'Really, Mysie, I don't think mamma would mind Dolores's being left a little while; I must go down to see about the Tree, because mamma gave me a message to old Webb, but I'll come back directly. Or perhaps Dolly is going to sleep, and does not want any one. Go and see.'

Mysie on this crept quietly into the room, full of hope of escape, but Dolores was anything but asleep. 'Oh, are you come, Mysie? Now you'll go on with the story. I tried, but my eyes ache at the back of them, and I can't.'

Mysie's fate was sealed. She sat down by the fire and took up the book, 'A Story for the Schoolroom,' one of the new ones given from the Tree.

It was the middle of the story, and she did not care about it at first, especially when she heard Fly's voice, and all the others laughing and chattering on the stairs.

'Didn't they care for her absence?' and her voice grew thick, and her eyes dim; but Dolores must not think her cross and unwilling, and she made a great effort, became interested in the girls there described, and wondered whether staying with Fly would have turned her head, after the example of the heroine of the book.

Dolores did not seem to want to talk. In fact, she was clinging to the reading, because she could not bear to speak or think of the state of affairs, and the story seemed, as it were, to drown her misery. She knew that her aunt and cousins were far less severe with her than she expected, but that could only be because she was ill. Had not Uncle Reginald turned against her, and Constance? It would all come upon her as soon as she came out of her room, and she was rather sorry to believe that she should be up and about to-morrow morning.

Mysie read on till the short, winter day showed the first symptoms of closing in. Then Lady Merrifield came up. 'You here, little nurse?' she said. 'Run out now and meet the others. I'll stay with Dolly.' Mysie knew by the kiss that her mother was pleased with her; but Dolores dreaded the talk with her aunt, and made herself sleepy.

CHAPTER XVI. -- THE INCONSTANCY OF CONSTANCE.

The two gentlemen who had gone to Darminster brought home tidings that the police who had been put on the track of Flinders had telegraphed that it was thought that a person answering to his description had embarked at Liverpool in an American-bound steamer.

This idea, though very uncertain, was a relief, at least to all except the boys, who thought it a great shame that such a rascal should escape, and wanted to know whether the Americans could not be made to give him up. They did not at all understand their elders being glad, for the sake of Maurice Mohun and his dead wife, that the man should not be publicly convicted, and above all that Dolores should not have to bear testimony against him in court, and describe her own very doubtful proceedings.

Besides, there would have been other things to try him for, since he had cheated the publishing house which employed him of all he had been able to get into his hands. There was reason to believe that he had heavy debts, especially gambling ones, and that he had become desperate since he no longer had his step-sister to fall back upon.

Looking into his room, among other papers, a half-burnt ma.n.u.script was found upon his grate among some exhausted cinders, as if he had been trying to use the unfortunate 'Waif of the Moorland' to eke out his last fire. Moreover, the proprietor of the Politician told Colonel Mohun of having remonstrated with him on the exceeding weakness and poorness of the 'Constantia' poetry, 'which,' as that indignant personage added, 'was evidently done merely as a lure to the unfortunate young lady.'