Part 61 (2/2)
”Yes--when I'm old enough--I'll tell him, Drina.”
”Oh, no; I mean you'll marry him when you're old enough, but you'd better tell him right away.”
”I see; I'd better speak immediately. Thank you, dear, for suggesting it.”
”You're quite welcome,” said the child seriously; ”and I hope you'll be as happy as I am.”
”I hope so,” said Eileen as the pony-cart drew up by the veranda and a groom took the pony's head.
Luncheon being the children's hour, Miss Erroll's silence remained unnoticed in the jolly uproar; besides, Gerald and Boots were discussing the huge house-party, lantern fete, and dance which the Orchils were giving that night for the younger sets; and Selwyn, too, seemed to take unusual interest in the discussion, though Eileen's part in the conference was limited to an occasional nod or monosyllable.
Drina was wild to go and furious at not having been asked, but when Boots offered to stay home, she resolutely refused to accept the sacrifice.
”No,” she said; ”they are pigs not to ask girls of my age, but you may go, Boots, and I'll promise not to be unhappy.” And she leaned over and added in a whisper to Eileen: ”You see how sensible it is to make arrangements beforehand! Because somebody, grown-up, might take him away at this very party. That's the reason why it is best to speak promptly.
Please pa.s.s me another peach, Eileen.”
”What are you two children whispering about?” inquired Selwyn, glancing at Eileen.
”Oho!” exclaimed Drina; ”you may know before long! May he not, Eileen?
It's about you,” she said; ”something splendid that somebody is going to do to you! Isn't it, Eileen?”
Miss Erroll looked smilingly at Selwyn, a gay jest on her lips; but the sudden clamour of pulses in her throat closed her lips, cutting the phrase in two, and the same strange fright seized her--an utterly unreasoning fear of him.
At the same moment Mrs. Gerard gave the rising signal, and Selwyn was swept away in the rus.h.i.+ng herd of children, out on to the veranda, where for a while he smoked and drew pictures for the younger Gerards. Later, some of the children were packed off for a nap; Billy with his a.s.sorted puppies went away with Drina and Boots, ever hopeful of a fox or rabbit; Nina Gerard curled herself up in a hammock, and Selwyn seated himself beside her, an uncut magazine on his knees. Eileen had disappeared.
For a while Nina swung there in silence, her pretty eyes fixed on her brother. He had nearly finished cutting the leaves of the magazine before she spoke, mentioning the fact of Rosamund Fane's arrival at the Minsters' house, Brookminster.
The slightest frown gathered and pa.s.sed from her brother's sun-bronzed forehead, but he made no comment.
”Mr. Neergard is a guest, too,” she observed.
”What?” exclaimed Selwyn, in disgust.
”Yes; he came ash.o.r.e with the Fanes.”
Selwyn flushed a little but went on cutting the pages of the magazine.
When he had finished he flattened the pages between both covers, and said, without raising his eyes:
”I'm sorry that crowd is to be in evidence.”
”They always are and always will be,” smiled his sister.
He looked up at her: ”Do you mean that anybody _else_ is a guest at Brookminster?”
”Yes, Phil.”
”Alixe?”
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