"I'm no husband-hunter," declared Lady Miller with considerable warmth, "and if girls are to be married, they'll be married."
"Well, that depends on circumstances! I remember an Irish servant who gave, as her reason for leaving an excellent, but dull situation, that 'she was out of the way of Providence.' I think there is the same drawback to Millfield."
Millfield Place was situated in a remote part of Moonshire, and in the days of Charles II., it had been the nucleus of many a robust and rollicking festivity: but time works changes, the Place was now generally referred to, as the "Back of Beyond." It was six miles from the nearest railway station: on the mere outer fringe of County Society, and to many of the rustics in Millfield village, the word "pictures" or "telephone" carried no meaning! Here years had passed swiftly—as they generally do, when spent in an uneventful, and monotonous round.
The four Miss Millers were endowed with an unusual amount of good looks, and intelligence; Wilhelmina, the eldest and heiress, was small, active, clever and outspoken: with a heart that knew no fear, and full of devotion to her sisters. Minna and Brenda (twins) were tall, vivacious and very fair to see. Amy, the youngest, aged twenty, had a wonderful mop of dark red hair, a pair of twinkling sea-green eyes, and uncontrollable spirits; she was still addressed as "Baby!"
For some years, the sisters had contented themselves with tennis, the sewing club, village entertainments, and the rearing of prize poultry; and then Wilhelmina, when her twenty-sixth birthday struck, began seriously to consider the situation. As alone she paced the long terrace, she held a solemn debate with herself, and this was the burden of her meditations: "Here we are embedded in the country, and growing into fossils. We haven't even a motor—because mother loathes them! We never see a soul, except the same old set, the Rector and Mrs. Puddock, Doctor and Mrs. Frost, father's elderly shooting friends; and once in a blue moon, the Hillsides, or Mrs. De Wolfe. Other girls go about, and visit new places, make new acquaintances, and have a good time; and we are young but once! I shall urge the Pater to transport us all to the Continent, for one whole year. If he resists, and won't listen to reason, I shall just tell him, we will leave home; the twins to go on the Stage,—front row,—Baby, to an A B C shop, and I to be a stewardess; I know I should love the sea,—which by the way, I have never seen!"
When Wilhelmina cautiously opened the subject to her mother, that lethargic matron was almost as startled as if a bomb had exploded on the hearth-rug! When she had recovered her senses (momentarily paralysed), with unusual animation, she expressed indignant horror at the mere suggestion of such a move. She pointed out to Billy that she and her sisters were extraordinarily fortunate; they had carriages, maids, saddle-horses; and every possible indulgence; the newest library books, a handsome dress allowance; what more did they want? Besides, how could such a pack of girls go dragging about the Continent! Certainly she would be no party to the crazy undertaking. Of course if they had been boys, it might have been different!
"Yes!" retorted Billy, "boys always get everything they want, and girls go to the wall."
"Well, boys or girls, nothing will induce me to leave my comfortable home," declared Lady Miller. "Paris, Switzerland, Egypt!" slightly raising her voice, "why, Wilhelmina, you must be mad! You know perfectly well, that I've not been even to London, for more than two years."
Lady Miller, a pretty, plaintive, fragile-looking woman, had been a celebrated beauty in her day,—but was now disposed to rest on such laurels, as remained. She relinquished visiting, and entertaining—beyond a small tennis party, or a few neighbours to tea,—pleading the state of her health; which, as it happened, was excellent; but the poor woman suffered from the dire and mortal malady of inertia; which is known to attack victims who live remote, and idle. The disease had grown from bad to worse, and Lady Miller had now abandoned herself to an existence of self-indulgent indolence. She was contented with her comfortable sofa, her embroidery, novels, patience cards, visits from newsmongering matrons,—and on fine days, an inspection of her celebrated rock garden! Wilhelmina had relieved her mother of all housekeeping worries: she managed the school, the village,—and her father.
The younger girls were amusing, chattering creatures: fond of racing through the rooms, banging doors, and bringing in dogs, but remarkably pretty—especially Brenda, who at times, was almost startlingly lovely! Once or twice, Lady Miller had murmured to her husband "that she wished Brenda's rich godmother would invite her to pay her a visit in London,"—and her husband had accorded an indifferent assent—he did not wish to part with any of his girls.