Part 15 (1/2)
Mr. Wilton's brow darkened as he saw the two together.
”This is absolute carelessness on Miss Nelson's part,” he said to himself. ”She knows my wishes, and it is her business to _see_ that Ermengarde obeys. I must have a very serious talk with Miss Nelson when I return home this afternoon, but I have no time to attend to the matter now. If I don't hurry, I shall miss seeing Furniss.”
Mr. Wilton galloped quickly away, found his friend at home, and in conversation with him forgot all home worries. He forgot them so absolutely that he accepted an invitation to spend the day and dine.
In consequence it was near midnight when he returned to Wilton Chase, and the fact that to-morrow was his birthday again absolutely escaped his memory.
CHAPTER IX.
FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.
”Maggie, Maggie, wake up, I say!”
”Yes, who's there. I'm so sleepy. Oh, it's you, Eric. What do you want?”
”It's father's birthday, and the clock has just struck four. You promised you'd get up at four.”
”Yes; but, oh dear me, I _am_ so sleepy.”
Marjorie yawned, and twisted about on her pillow.
”Are you sure it wasn't three that struck, Eric?”
”No, four; I counted the strokes. I thought you liked getting up early.”
”So I do, but don't talk so loud, or you'll wake Ermie.”
”Catch me wanting her to get up, cross old thing!”
”Eric, you are unkind, and Basil wouldn't like it.”
”Bother Basil! what do I care? I say, Mag, are you going to pop out of bed?”
”I suppose so. Go outside the door and wait for me, Eric, and _do_ be quiet.”
Eric departed, whistling under his breath, and kicking his heels so restlessly that only the soundest sleeper could still remain in the land of dreams.
Marjorie rubbed her eyes, stretched herself, yawned, and finally, stimulated by threatening knocks of Eric's on the other side of the door, managed to tear herself away from her warm snug bed. She saw the sunlight streaming in through the closed window-curtains, but August though it was, this early hour of the morning was chilly, and Marjorie s.h.i.+vered as she tumbled not too tidily into her clothes. Eric would not give her time to take her usual cold plunge-bath, and she was decidedly of opinion that plans which looked delightful the night before are less alluring when viewed by the candid light of morning.
Marjorie was a hearty child in every way, hearty at work and at play, hearty, too, at sleep, and it was hard to be debarred of quite a third of her usual allowance. She dipped her face and neck, however, in cold water, which effectually woke her up, and when she had brushed out her thick hair, and knelt for a moment or two at her little bed to say her usual morning prayers, she felt quite cheerful, and joined Eric with her usual sunny good humored face.
”That's right,” said Eric, clasping her hand. ”Isn't the morning scrumptious? Not a bit of a cloud anywhere. Now let's be off to wake father.”
”To wake father! at four o'clock in the morning! What do you mean, Eric?”
”It's twelve minutes past four, if it comes to that,” said Eric. ”You were an awful time getting into your clothes, Mag. And why shouldn't we wake father? It's his birthday. He will like us to wake him!”
Marjorie, however, judging from her own too recent experience, thought differently.
”It really _is_ too early,” she said. ”He wouldn't like it a bit, and why should we vex father because it's his birthday?”