"The fact is, papa," said Clarissa, "you never do look to see how things are getting worn out."
"Clarissa!" exclaimed the angry father.
"Indeed, papa, if you were more at home and saw these things," began Patience—
"I have no doubt it is all right. Get what you want. Go to Barlow's and to Green's, and to Block and Blowhard. Don't let there be any bills, that's all. I will give you cheques when you get the accounts. And now, my dears,—I am in the middle of work which will not bear interruption." Then they left him, and when he did come to the villa on the evening before his journey, most of the new articles,—including the corkscrew,—were already in the house.
CHAPTER III.
WHAT HAPPENED ON THE LAWN AT POPHAM VILLA.
Sir Thomas started for Southampton on a Friday, having understood that the steamer from St. Thomas would reach the harbour on Saturday morning. He would then immediately bring Mary Bonner up to London and down to Fulham;—and there certainly had come to be a tacit understanding that he would stay at home on the following Sunday. On the Friday evening the girls were alone at the villa; but there was nothing in this, as it was the life to which they were accustomed. They habitually dined at two, calling the meal lunch,—then had a five or six o'clock tea,—and omitted altogether the ceremony of dinner. They had local acquaintances, with whom occasionally they would spend their evenings; and now and then an old maid or two,—now and then also a young maid or two would drop in on them. But it was their habit to be alone. During these days of which we are speaking Clarissa would take her "Faery Queen," and would work hard perhaps for half an hour. Then the "Faery Queen" would be changed for a novel, and she would look up from her book to see whether Patience had turned upon her any glance of reprobation. Patience, in the meantime, would sit with unsullied conscience at her work. And so the evenings would glide by; and in these soft summer days the girls would sit out upon the lawn, and would watch the boats of London watermen as they passed up and down below the bridge. On this very evening, the last on which they were to be together before the arrival of their cousin,—Patience came out upon the lawn with her hat and gloves. "I am going across to Miss Spooner's," she said; "will you come?" But Clarissa was idle, and making some little joke, not very much to the honour of Miss Spooner, declared that she was hot and tired, and had a headache, and would stay at home. "Don't be long, Patty," she said; "it is such a bore to be alone." Patience promised a speedy return, and, making her way to the gate, crossed the road to Miss Spooner's abode. She was hardly out of sight when the nose of a wager boat was driven up against the bank, and there was Ralph Newton, sitting in a blue Jersey shirt, with a straw hat and the perspiration running from his handsome brow. Clarissa did not see him till he whistled to her, and then she started, and laughed, and ran down to the boat, and hardly remembered that she was quite alone till she had taken his hand. "I don't think I'll come out, but you must get me some soda-water and brandy," said Ralph. "Where's Patience?"
"Patience has gone out to see an old maid; and we haven't got any brandy."
"I am so hot," said Ralph, carefully extricating himself from the boat. "You have got sherry?"