"You're a beast," said Joan uncompromisingly. "I hate to think of people being unhappy."
"You see," Miss Dexter put in, "she's suffering under a great disappointment. She's a splendid teacher and was getting on awfully well, and then she broke down and has had to take a private job. Many people would much prefer to live in a place like this, and have a good time, instead of toiling hard at a school. But, for her, it's good-bye to a career in life, and she can't help feeling rather sore about it."
"Poor darling!" exclaimed Joan again. "We'll take her to our hearts and make up for it. Don't you be afraid, Toby dear—you don't mind us calling you that, do you?—if Nancy misbehaves I know how to deal with her."
"I don't want to misbehave," said Nancy, "and if I did you couldn't stop me. If she treats us well we'll treat her well. I shan't make any rash promises. I think we'd better be getting back now. People will begin to turn up soon, and it's such fun to see them."
They went back to the house, and presently there came riding up the drive two men in pink, and immediately after there came a dogcart and then a carriage and then more men on horses and a lady or two, and after that a constant succession of riders and people on wheels and on foot, until the open stretch of park in front of the house was full of them.
And at last the huntsman and whips came trotting slowly along the drive and on to the grass, and the hounds streaming along with them waving their sterns, a useful, well-matched pack, much alike in the mass, but each with as much individuality as the men and women who thronged around them.
Then the members of the hunt began to drift by twos and threes into the house and into the dining-room, where the Squire was very hospitable and hearty in pressing refreshments on them—"just a sandwich, or something to keep out the draught," he kept on repeating, full of pleasure at being able to feed dozens of people who didn't want feeding, and quite forgetting for the time being his fears as to the effect of Virginia's presence.
Virginia, not wishing any more than he to make herself a centre of the occasion, was on her horse already, and Dick was with her, and a handsome pair they made. So thought old Aunt Laura who had had herself drawn up by the porch in her Bath chair, as far away as possible from "the horses' hoofs." She had just heard that a marriage was about to take place in the family and was full of twittering excitement at the news.
"My nephew," she said, meaning the Rector, "told me the glad news only this morning, my dear. I am overjoyed to hear it, and to have the opportunity of seeing you so soon. Please do not bring your horse too close, if you do not mind. I am somewhat nervous of animals."
"I'll bring her to see you this evening, Aunt Laura," said Dick, "or, if she's too tired, to-morrow morning."