hour lost,” thought Cecil; but she was too well bred to grumble, and she had her great work to carry on of copying and illustrating her journal.
Mrs. Poynsett readily consented. “Oh yes, my dear, let her do whatever she likes. Don’t let me be a bugbear. A girl is never at home till she has had her will of the furniture. I think she will find that moving out the piano betrays the fading of the rest of the paper, but that is her affair. She is free to do just as she likes. I dare say the place does look antediluvian to young eyes.”
So Raymond was the bearer of his mother’s full permission; and Cecil presided with great energy over the alterations, which she carried out by the aid of the younger servants, to the great disgust of their seniors. She expected the acclamations of her contemporaries; but it happened that the first of them to cross the room was Julius, on his way to his mother’s room after luncheon, and he, having on a pair of make-shift glasses, till the right kind could be procured from London, was unprepared for obstacles in familiar regions, stumbled over an ottoman, and upset a table with the breakage of a vase.
He apologized, with much regret; but the younger brothers made an outcry. “What has come to the place? Here’s the table all over everything!”
“And where are the bronzes?”
“And the humming-birds? Miles’s birds, that he brought home after his first voyage.”
“And the clock with the two jolly little Cupids? Don’t you remember Miles and Will Bowater dressing them up for men-of-war’s men? Mother could not bring herself to have them undressed for a year, and all the time the clock struck nohow!”
“This is an anatomical study instead of a clock,” lamented Frank. “I say, Cecil, do you like your friends to sit in their bones, like Sydney Smith?”
“I never saw such a stupid old set of conservatives!” broke in Rosamond, feeling for Cecil’s mortification. “In an unprejudiced eye the room looks infinitely better, quite revivified! You ought to be much obliged to Cecil for letting you see all her beautiful things.”
“Why don’t you favour us with yours?” said Charlie.
“I know better! Mine aren’t fit to wipe the shoes of Cecil’s! When I get into the Rectory you’ll see how hideous they are!” said Rosamond, with the merriest complacency. “Couvre-pieds to set your teeth on edge, from the non-commissioned officers’ wives; and the awfullest banner-screen you ever saw, worked by the drum-major’s own hands, with Her Majesty’s arms on one side, and the De Courcy ones on the other, and glass eyes like stuffed birds’ to the lion and unicorn. We nearly expired from suppressed laughter under the presentation.”
Then she went round, extorting from the lads admiration for Cecil’s really beautiful properties, and winning gratitude for her own cordial praise, though it was not the artistic appreciation they deserved. Indeed, Cecil yielded to the general vote for the restoration of the humming-birds, allowing that, though she did not like stuffed birds in a drawing-room, she would not have banished them if she had known their history.
This lasted till Charlie spied a carriage coming up the drive, which could be seen a long way off, so that there was the opportunity for a general sauve qui peut. Cecil represented that Rosamond ought to stay and receive her bridal visits; but she was unpersuadable. “Oh no! I leave all that for you! My time will come when I get into the Rectory. We are going in the dog-cart to the other end of the parish.—What’s its name—Squattlesea Marsh, Julius?”
“Squattlesford!” said Charlie. “If Julius means to drive you, look out for your neck!”
“No, it’s the other way, I’m going to drive Julius!—Come along, or we shall be caught!”
Cecil stood her ground, as did Anne, who was too weary and indifferent to retreat, and Frank, who had taken another view of the carriage as it came nearer.
“I must apologize for having brought nothing but my father’s card,” said Lady Tyrrell, entering with her sister, and shaking hands: “there’s no such thing as dragging him out for a morning call.”
“And Mr. Charnock Poynsett is not at home,” replied Cecil. “He found so much county business waiting for him, that he had to go to Backsworth.”
“It is the better opportunity for a little private caucus with you,” returned Lady Tyrrell, “before the meeting to-morrow. I rather fancy the gentlemen have one of their own.”
“Some are to dine here to-night,” said Cecil.
“We ladies had better be prepared with our proposals,” said Lady Tyrrell.
At the same time Frank drew near Miss Vivian with a large book, saying, “These are the photographs you wished to see.”
He placed the book on the ottoman, and would thus have secured a sort of tête-à-tête; but Eleonora did not choose to leave Mrs. Miles Charnock out, and handed her each photograph in turn, but could only elicit a cold languid “Thank you.” To Anne’s untrained eye these triumphs of architecture were only so many dull representations of ‘Roman Catholic churches,’ and she would much rather have listened to the charitable plans of the other two ladies, for the houseless factory women of Wil’sbro’.
The bazaar, Lady Tyrrell said, must be first started by the Member’s wife; and there should be an innermost committee, of not more than three, to dispose of stalls and make arrangements.
“You must be one,” said Cecil. “I know no one yet.”
“You will, long before it comes off. In fact, I am as great a stranger as yourself. Ah! there’s an opportunity!” as the bell pealed. “The Bowaters, very likely; I saw their Noah’s ark as I passed the Poynsett Arms, with the horses taken out. I wonder how many are coming—worthy folks!”
Which evidently meant insufferable bores.
“Is there not a daughter?” asked Cecil.
“You need not use the singular, though, by the bye, most of them are married.”
“Oh, pray stay!” entreated Cecil, as there were signs of leave-taking.
“I should do you no good. You’ll soon learn that I am a sort of Loki among the Asagötter.”
Cecil laughed, but had time to resume her somewhat prim dignity before the lengthened disembarkation was over, and after all, produced only four persons; but then none were small—Mrs. Bowater was a harsh matron, Mr. Bowater a big comely squire, the daughters both tall, one with an honest open face much like Herbert’s, only with rather less youth and more intelligence, the other a bright dark glowing gipsy-faced young girl.
Eleonora Vivian, hitherto gravely stiff and reserved, to poor Frank’s evident chagrin, at once flashed into animation, and met the elder Miss Bowater with outstretched hands, receiving a warm kiss. At the same time Mr. Bowater despatched Frank to see whether his mother could admit a visitor; and Lady Tyrrell observed, “Ah! I was about to make the same petition; but I will cede to older friends, for so I suppose I must call you, Mr. Bowater—though my acquaintance is of long standing enough!”
And she put on a most charming smile, which Mr. Bowater received with something inarticulate that might be regarded as a polite form of ‘fudge,’ which made Cecil think him
