Then Lady Isobel turned up a lane out of the high-road. A little white gate stood in the quickset hedge, which Lady Isobel opened, and there, in a pretty rustic garden, was a white-washed cottage with a thatched roof and old-fashioned casement windows. A jasmine and rose climbed over its porch. The door was painted green, and everything looked fresh and clean. Lady Isobel unlocked the door, and Bobby and True stepped in with exclamations of delight. One sunny sitting-room on either side of the door, a tiny kitchen behind, and three bedrooms above, were all the rooms the cottage contained, but it had a sweet old kitchen garden behind, and three apple-trees were brightening the background with their snowy blossoms. It was on a hill, and the view from the front looked over a lovely expanse of buttercup meadows, and the river beyond.
Bobby's little face looked solemn for his years as he turned and faced his aunt.
'It's a beautiful place. Miss Robsart's sister will be able to paint her trees again. I fink, Aunt Is'bel, you'll be filling us too full of happiness.'
'There's just one person more who ought to be here,' said True.
'Yes, I've tolded 'bout him; and when Miss Robsart comes it will be talked about. Then we shall all be, like Margot says, a happy fam'ly.'
'A country happy family,' said True.
Lady Isobel laughed merrily.
'Did you never see this cottage before, Bobby? I believe your grandmother's coachman lived here?'
'He was a cross man,' said Bobby promptly. 'I never comed near him. He said he couldn't bear boys, and nurse wouldn't take me to any cottages—grandmother said she wasn't to. I never comed up this lane once.'
Then they went back to the house, and Lady Isobel left them in the garden to play. In the afternoon they drove into the town with her and helped to choose a pretty invalid couch for the eldest Miss Robsart.