Lucilla had put up a bounteous basket of good things, and all the materials for afternoon tea; and the fun of arranging the grassy table first, and of making a fire and boiling the kettle afterwards—not to speak of the very satisfactory meal that intervened—had its natural effect upon our impressionable heroine of eighteen.
Her fiancé, much revived by a tumbler of dry champagne, carefully cooled in the water-hole, was also in improved spirits and temper, and he set himself to be very kind to his little sweetheart, and forgave her all her misdeeds.
Between three and four, having had their tea, the horses were put to, and they started on their way again; and just at nightfall they arrived at the railway, and at the inn where they were to spend the night.
Here they found dinner awaiting them, of which Rachel partook in sleepy silence; and she went to bed soon afterwards, and slept too soundly even to dream of trouble.
In the morning they parted from Mr. Thornley, and started by the first train to town; at noon they lunched in a railway refreshment-room; and in the middle of the afternoon they found themselves once more in Toorak, being helped out of the family brougham by good-natured Ned, and welcomed into the green satin drawing-room by his bright-faced wife.
"And so you are back again at last!" exclaimed Beatrice gaily, as she took her young cousin into her arms. "And how are you, dear child? Why you look quite pale. Take off your hat and sit down at once, and have some tea. Mr. Kingston, I don't think this country air that they talked so much about has done anything very wonderful after all. Rachel is not looking so well as she was when she left."
Rachel blushed a lovely rose-colour immediately, of course, and Mr. Kingston looked up at her with vague anxiety.
"I don't think she is, myself," he said; "I noticed it as soon as I got up there. But she will be all right now she is home again."
"I am only tired," murmured Rachel.
"A girl like you has no business to be tired," retorted the little woman brusquely.