Part 15 (1/2)

”Just speaking the truth. You can't think how many times I shall think of you sitting there with your three splendid men----”

”Jean! What are you talking about?”

”About Uncle David, and Jimps, and Mr. Jefferson----”

”But they're not mine,” protested Georgiana, laughing. ”Except Father Davy.”

”Not--Jimps?”

”Oh, of course he's my friend, my very good friend. And Mr. Jefferson's only a 'boarder,'”--she made a little grimace at the word. ”You speak as if I had them all about me all the time.”

”But you do evenings, don't you?”

”They were there much more while you were visiting me than they will be now. Jimps has heaps of arrears to make up; he let lots of work go while you were there, you must know, my dear. As for Mr. Jefferson--he may never come down any more, now that Jimps won't be going up to beg him to make a fourth for your entertainment. So don't imagine me holding court with those three retainers. It will mostly be just Father Davy and I with a volume of Dumas or Kipling. Isn't it odd how my pale little father loves the red blood of literature?”

”Just the same----” but Jeannette did not finish that. She began afresh: ”And oh! how I shall miss you, George--as Jimps calls you. Somehow I must have you before long for a real visit here, or wherever I may be for the summer.”

”Thank you, Jean; but I can never get away.”

”I'll arrange it somehow. That makes me think--Miles Channing was dreadfully disappointed that you were going in the morning. I've no doubt he will manage to see you off somehow. I think it's too bad of you to insist on going before luncheon. Think how little sleep you'll have.”

She gave Georgiana a penetrating look as she said it, but saw only a pair of beautiful bare arms thrown up over a ma.s.s of dark locks, as her cousin, with a clever imitation of a half-smothered yawn, answered merrily: ”Then we must go to bed this minute or I shall never have strength of mind to get up. And I can't leave Father Davy to the tender mercies of Mrs. Perkins longer than I can help. She'll give him everything that is bad for him, in spite of the best intentions.”

It was a wide-awake Georgiana, nevertheless, who, fully dressed for the drive, leaned over Jeannette's bed at ten o'clock that morning and kissed a warm velvet cheek, murmuring: ”Don't wake up, Jean. We're just off after breakfast. I'll write soon. You've been a perfect darling, and I'm more grateful than I can tell you.”

”Oh, I'm dead to the world, I'm so tired!” moaned the girl in the bed.

”I always have to pay up so for dancing all night. But you,”--she lifted languid eyelids to see her cousin's smiling freshness of face and air of vigour--”why, you look as though you had had twelve hours' sleep--and a cold plunge!”

”I've had the cold plunge,” admitted Georgiana, laughing. ”And I'm 'fit as a fiddle,' as Jimps says. He sent his good-bye to you and told me to tell you he'll never forget you--never!”

”Tell him I'll not let him forget me--or you, either. Oh, how I hate to have you go, both of you!”

Through a silent, sleeping house Georgiana and Stuart stole, the only member of the family up to see them off being Mr. Thomas Crofton himself, the oldest person under the great rooftree.

”My dear, you must come again, you must come often,” he urged, holding Georgiana's hand and patting it with a paternal air. He was a handsome man in the early sixties, with graying hair and tired eyes. ”You have done a great deal for our Jean; she looks much stronger than when she went to your home. But neither she nor Rosalie can enter the race with you for splendid health. That comes from your country life, I suppose.

I envy you, I envy you, my dear.”

”Come and see us, Uncle Thomas--do. Father Davy would be so happy; you know he's such an invalid. But his mind and heart are as young as ever.”

”I will come; I will drive down some day, thank you, Georgiana. I should like to see David again. Mr. Stuart, come again, come again. Good-bye; sorry your aunt was too much done up to see you off this morning, my dear. Good-bye.”

As the two emerged from the door a tall figure sprang up the steps.

”What luck! I was pa.s.sing and I suspected you were just getting off.

Good morning! Can you possibly be the girl I saw dancing seven hours ago?”

”I don't wonder you ask, Mr. Channing,” laughed Georgiana. ”Evening frocks and traveling clothes are quite different affairs.”