Part 16 (2/2)

”I am quite to blame,” said the English girl, taking Mary's hand. ”It was I who enticed you into this dismal place.”

”No, no,” protested Mary. ”The real reason of it was because we forgot to eat lunch.”

Lunch? They had never thought of it, and immediately five American ladies became desperately weak in the knees and shaky. At least two of them turned pale at the mere suggestion that they had had no nourishment since nine that morning, and one of them, the smallest, most fragile and oldest, cried:

”What a poor excuse for a chaperone I am, that I should let my girls come to the point of starvation and never even notice it!”

”You must be very, very hungry,” said the English girl in her beautiful, cultivated voice, which made the other girls thrill every time she spoke. ”It is quite tea time, now, is it not, Fraulein? I have a delightful idea,” she exclaimed impulsively. ”You must have tea with me.

You must all go in the car. It is just outside, and this poor dear shall not say she is starved when she visits England.”

”But--” protested Miss Campbell.

”No, no. I really wish it very much. You will come, will you not?”

exclaimed this impulsive and charming person, seizing Miss Campbell's hand.

Thus it happened that Mary's imprisonment with the wax effigies resulted in the most wonderful tea party that the Motor Maids or Miss Campbell either, for that matter, had ever been to in all their lives.

CHAPTER XI.-TEA IN A PALACE.

The motor car bore them smoothly and swiftly along through several broad shady streets. They had glimpses of splendid big houses, the front windows of which were gay with boxes of pansies and red geraniums. Then they slowed down, turned under a stone arch and paused at the door of an immense gray house half covered with English ivy.

”Here we are,” said their new friend, ”and I think I had better introduce myself. I am Beatrice Colchester, and this is my governess, Fraulein Bloch. May I ask your names, so that I may introduce you to my grandmother?”

Miss Campbell immediately went through the introductions.

”You will have a hard time remembering so many of us,” said Billie.

”Perhaps you had better call us by our first names. They are much easier. You can remember to say Elinor and Mary and Nancy and Billie without much trouble.”

”And you must not forget to say 'Beatrice,'” exclaimed the other girl who seemed to the Motor Maids to be the most enchanting and unaffected girl they had ever met.

Perhaps you would like to know what Beatrice Colchester looked like? She was tall, taller even than Billie, and very slender. Her eyes were large and deep blue in color; her hair was reddish gold and wavy, and her skin as pink and white as milk and roses. Her features were not regular, but because of the charm of her expression and her lovely coloring, her rather large mouth and unduly small nose were not even perceived at first by the people who met her. In a photograph the deficiencies of her face were very evident.

The doors of the mansion were opened before they had alighted from the motor car, by two footmen in blue and buff livery, who stood on each side of the entrance as stiff and rigid as statues. But the girls had no eyes for them. They were looking at the hall of the palace. For whoever Beatrice Colchester really was, she certainly lived in the finest house that they had ever seen. The great hall was paneled in oak quite black with age; portraits of ladies and gentlemen of the court in velvets and satins with wigs and high head dresses hung on either side; and ranged along the walls were old suits of armor. At one end was an immense stained gla.s.s window exactly like the window of a church, through which the afternoon sun cast a ruby light. It was a very lofty hall and the staircase which went up at one side seemed to be lost in the gloom above.

”Is Grandmamma in the drawing room, James?” demanded Beatrice Colchester of one of those superb individuals in blue and buff.

”She is, my lady,” he managed to reply, without so much as moving a muscle of his imperturbable countenance.

”Will you come up, please?” she continued, turning to Miss Campbell. ”We shall have tea at once. I know you must be starving.”

Up they went in a silent procession, awed and subdued by the splendor of the wonderful old house. Suites of drawing rooms, they found later, were below on each side of the hall. The room they now entered was a big, beautiful apartment, which seemed to be furnished with numberless comfortable chairs and enormous sofas piled with cus.h.i.+ons that were covered with old brocades. There were low tables about, filled with books and vases of flowers and photographs in silver frames. A grand piano was at one end and on the walls were fine old pictures, which no doubt were even more valuable than the portraits below. It was indeed a vast and beautiful room, but it was not so imposing as the great hall and it was light and bright and cheerful. Toasting her toes in a big arm chair by the fire sat a little old lady, and standing on a perch at her right hand was a poll-parrot which called out as they entered:

”Late to tea again! Naughty Bee. Come, come. Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

It was so funny that Nancy laughed out loud, a merry, musical laugh which made the parrot turn and stare and put his head on one side in a most human manner.

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