Part 35 (1/2)
”I'm afraid I haven't met him,” answered Elinor apologetically.
”An' is it me second cousin, Edward, ye be after knowin'?”
”Edward Butler is my uncle,” answered Elinor steadily.
”Well, may the howly Saint Pathrick and all his sainted brith'rin stand witness to this,” cried Thomas in the throes of paralyzing astonishment.
”An' you his niece, beghorra! His saloon must have prospered surely to be sindin' his niece to Oirland in such grand stoile.”
”My uncle isn't in that business,” began Elinor, blinking back her tears. ”He's a lawyer, and has a factory besides for manufacturing automobile supplies.”
The other girls mercifully endeavored to engage Eileen and her mother in conversation until they saw Elinor stand up and heard her say:
”You haven't two sons and another daughter? Oh, then there's some mistake. My cousins have quite a family of children.”
The man gave her a bland and innocent stare. It was impossible to ruffle his equable disposition.
”'Tis a mistake, surely, then, Miss, and you are not me cousin at all, at all, but the kin of the owld Squire who lives five miles the other side of the village. I'm sorry, but the matin' was a plisint break in the day's wor-rk, an' I'm not begrudgin' you of the toime I spent; an'
missin' the sicond thrain with the most pa.s.sengers. But I'm thinkin'
ye'll have to git somebody else to drive ye to the owld Squire's. It's only last St. Michaelmas he called me a lazy blackguard, and me a hard wur-rkin' man, beghorra!”
”That will be all right, Mr. Butler,” put in Billie. ”If you'll take us back to the village, we'll go in the motor car to Squire Butler's.”
”And we'll gladly pay you for the time we've kept your vehicle,” said Elinor in tones of majestic relief.
Half an hour later they were informed by the man at the inn who had been giving the ”Comet” a good dusting down, that Tom Butler was a lazy fellow who never did a lick of work except drive his old jaunting car,-an inheritance from his wife's father,-back and forth from the station to the inn or to houses thereabouts.
”It's his owld woman as runs the fam'ly, Miss, an' his dowter as looks after the powltry.”
Armed with specific directions, they now sped in the ”Comet” out of the inn yard, along the slovenly little street and into the country.
And, oh, the burst of hysterical laughter, long pent up, and the joy of being back in the smooth-running motor car after that jolting two-wheeled vehicle; but best of all, the supreme relief of not being related to Thomas the carter; his cousin Michael, the conductor, from Saint Loose, and his cousin Edward, keeper of a saloon, heaven knows where.
How they laughed and joked and teased Elinor, who was quite willing to be teased, you may be sure, being on the safe side now. With feelings very different from their recent emotions they finally stopped at a pretty little lodge built into a high stone wall. A barefooted girl opened the gate and up a neat gravel drive they sped. Presently they arrived at the front door of a charming old house covered with ivy, with windows opening right onto the lawn. It was not a large or pretentious dwelling, the home of Squire Butler, just a rambling, comfortable, pretty old place set in the midst of shrubbery and shade trees. Through the open cas.e.m.e.nts of the drawing-room came the sweet fairy notes of a harp and a girl's voice singing:
”Kathleen Mavourneen, the gray dawn is breaking, The horn of the hunter is heard on the hill.”
In a moment they were ushered into that same drawing-room, and the singer, slender and graceful, with soft blue eyes and dark hair, came forward.
”Is this Kathleen?” began Elinor. ”I am your cousin, Elinor Butler, from America.”
Pretty soon all the Butlers were a.s.sembled in the drawing-room: Squire Butler, jovial and handsome; Mrs. Butler, still young and fresh-looking, although she was past fifty; Richard, home from Cambridge, and another Elinor, older than her sister and even prettier.
It seemed to the Motor Maids that never before had they met such charming people. Back of the house was an old-fas.h.i.+oned flower garden, separated from the kitchen garden by a tall hedge of fuchsias in full bloom. The rich color of the pendent blossoms made a splendid background for a group of wicker chairs and a table; hither the entire company now repaired for tea. An old lady drove up in a pony carriage and joined them, and two ruddy-faced girls wearing short skirts and stout walking boots made their appearance. They had taken the short ten-mile cut, they said, and timed themselves to arrive at four-thirty. One of them later joined Billie, Nancy and Richard Butler in a set of tennis, and played so well that Billie felt ashamed, and resolved secretly to get into practice before she played tennis again with Irish and English girls.
Mary Price and Kathleen wandered off to see the garden where roses clambered against the old walls and honeysuckle filled the air with its perfume. Along the paths, growing in profusion, were wall flowers, stock, marigolds, old-fas.h.i.+oned pinks, fragrant clumps of rosemary and many other flowers and herbs.
Squire Butler desired mightily to send a trap into the village for Miss Campbell and Madame Cortinas and all the luggage, too. But the girls a.s.sured him that they were due at Castle Abbey, Lord Glenarm's place, in two days. Finally, Billie and young Richard Butler dashed back to the village in the motor car and returned with the two ladies for dinner.