“Yes, very much the same.”
“I must see it the first thing in the morning. And, mother,” I went on, in growing excitement, “did you ever see such a lovely old grandfather’s clock as the one in the lower hall—and just look at that old wardrobe, with its—”
“Now, Cecil,” interrupted mother, sternly, “I want you to get that hair of yours in order—and here’s your clean frock. I do hope you’re not going to be so thoughtless and impolite as to make us late for Mr. Chester’s dinner!”
“No, mother,” I promised obediently, “I’ll hurry;” but it was just as well she stayed with me to hold me to this duty, for there were so many delightful things in the room that, with the best intentions in the world, I should inevitably have been late without her. It is very difficult to comb one’s hair and at the same time admire the carving on the mirror before which you are doing it—and such carving it was, so graceful and expressive and right! As it was, we had just reached the lower hall again, and mother was dragging me past the grandfather’s clock, when the knocker sounded against the door and reverberated through the hall in a quite startling manner; and there on the step was Mr. Chester, shaking hands with Dick, who had no passion for old furniture, and whose toilet, besides, was much simpler than mine—one of a boy’s great advantages which I have often envied.
“It’s such a delightful night that I didn’t bring the carriage,” said Mr. Chester, shaking hands with each of us in turn. “And it is really only a step.”
“It would have been sacrilege to ride,” agreed mother, as we went down the steps together, and indeed the evening was deliciously soft and warm, with the fragrance of spring in the air.
“Do you know,” he added, “I never thought of your baggage until—”
“We sent Dick after it,” interrupted mother, quickly. “We certainly didn’t expect you to bother with it—you’ve been so kind already. He was only too eager to go—it was quite an adventure for him to drive over to the station.”
“Though Susan seems to be a horse with a past rather than a future,” supplemented Dick; whereat we all laughed.
“Yes,” said Mr. Chester, “I’ve seen her trotting meditatively along many a time. I dare say her past is a blameless and useful one—well worth meditating upon.”