Part 11 (1/2)

”Here they are at last,” exclaimed Miss Lambent. ”I told you so. Now, Beatrice, what do you say?”

”Nothing,” replied her sister quietly.

”Then I say something. George Canninge wouldn't have come here to a children's school feast unless he had expected to meet some one particular.”

The object of their conversation had just helped a tall, handsome lady, with perfectly white hair, to descend from a phaeton drawn by a splendid pair of bays. He was a broad-shouldered, sparely-made man of about thirty, with dark, closely-cut whiskers--beards were an abomination then--and keen grey eyes, which took in the whole scene at a glance, and, what was more, to find satisfaction as he took off and replaced his grey felt hat, and then, from habit, took out a white handkerchief and dusted his glossy boots.

”How absurd, mother! Thought I'd been walking,” he said. ”Bravo, Burge! He's doing it well. Hang it mother! I like that fellow.”

”It's a pity, dear, that he is so vulgar.”

”Oh, I don't know. He's frank and honesty and don't pretend to be anything more that what he is--a successful tradesman. Never saw a man less of a sn.o.b. Oh, there are the Lambents. I say, who's the lady talking to the parson?”

”I don't know, my dear,” said Mrs Canninge, ”unless it is the new schoolmistress.”

”Nonsense: can't be. Oh, here's Burge! How are you, Burge? Glad you've got such a fine day for your treat.”

”So am I, Mr Canninge, so am I. Thank you for coming, sir. Thank you for coming too, ma'am. My sister is up by the house, and there's lunch in the dining-room, and you'll excuse me, won't you! I have such heaps to do.”

”Excuse you, of course. And I say, Burge, your going to give the youngsters some fun, I hope?”

”Fun, sir? I mean to let them have a jolly good lark.”

”Don't let Lambent get them together and preach at the poor little beggars.”

Mr William Forth Burge's face expanded, and he showed all his white teeth.

”That's what I like sir. That's the genuine old English squire said that.”

”Nonsense, Burge.”

”Oh, but it is, Mr Canninge. I know what's what as well as most men; and, look here, sir, I mean them to thoroughly enjoy themselves to-day.”

”That's right, and I'll help you.”

”You will, sir?” cried the giver of the feast.

”To be sure I will; get up some races and that sort of thing.”

”I've got it all down on a piece of paper here, sir; only you wait.

Now, I must go.”

”He is really very vulgar, George,” said the lady; ”but there is a bluffness about him that I do like after all. But hadn't we better go and speak to Miss Burge?”

”Come along then. Oh, there are the Lambents with her now.”

The Canninges went up to little Miss Burge, the lady saluting her graciously, and the young squire very heartily; and then salutations were being exchanged with the Misses Lambent, Beatrice looking bright and handsome as George Canninge shook hands in a frank gentlemanly way, as a deafening clamour arose behind them, and, turning, there was the host wielding a great dinner-bell with all his might.

As he ceased, the children cheered, the band struck up, and the little processions were marched past the company on the terrace, the boys to one end of the marquee, the girls to the other, Hazel now at the head of her troop, looking bright and animated, excited slightly by the scene, and being admired more than she knew by those whom she pa.s.sed.