But a knock at the door interrupted them; the discreet Capt entered, bearing a telegram upon a salver.
Mrs. Haggard, to whom the envelope was addressed, tore it open with some anxiety; her face assumed a pleased expression.
"Order a carriage at once, Capt," she said.
The valet withdrew to execute the command.
The telegram was from Haggard; it was as follows:
"Spunyarn and I are on the road, and shall reach Geneva by last train. You had better go to the Villa Lambert and arrange for taking up our quarters there, if you like the place. All well—H."
Georgie handed the paper to her cousin, the latter clapped her hands with glee. In a woman's life there is nothing more delightful than arranging a home, though it be but a temporary one.
The girls hurried to prepare for their drive. And Mrs. Haggard, after attempting to soothe the wounded feelings of her maid, directed her to accompany them.
With Capt on the box, the young wife and her cousin, and their still ruffled attendant, started on the lovely drive along the margin of the lake for the villa which Haggard had secured, should it meet with their mutual approval, as a home for his wife and cousin during his short projected necessary absence in America.
As seen from the lake the Villa Lambert, which stood quite alone, gave one the idea of the place a poet would choose for his meditations. The villa and its terrace were built of white stone, but a large portion of the walls was covered with ivy. The house itself was embedded in a thickly-wooded garden where the trees were just budding into leaf. Privacy was evidently what had been aimed at in the arrangement of the place. On looking at it one would instinctively say, here is rest. A large porte cochère, which had evidently been long unused, was the chief entrance to the place, and a small wicket, pierced by a grille, and surmounted by a big bell in an iron cage, was the only other means of getting into the garden. The active Capt descended, and seizing the substantial handle rang loudly. The bark of a dog was the only answer, but after repeating the summons several times, the trap in the wicket opened and disclosed the surly face of an old Savoyard. The gifted Capt addressed the old man in numerous dialects, but no answering smile of intelligence illuminated the sulky wooden face; the barred aperture was closed with an angry slam, and Capt instantly recommenced his solo upon the bell. Again the trap opened and a weather-beaten crone answered his summons; at length the door itself was unbarred, and Mr. Capt hastened to assist his mistresses to alight. He explained to them that the guardians of the villa were a Savoyard and his wife, and that the man was probably deaf, but that the woman had expressed her readiness to show them over the house and grounds.