‘That is like you, Jenny. I know William will offer to take them in at home, but I cannot send them without Miss Vincent; and she cannot leave her mother, who has had a sort of stroke. Otherwise I should try leaving them here while I am away, but the poor old lady is in no state for it—in fact, I doubt her living long.’
‘I know; you have been governess by yourself these last weeks; it will be well to relieve her. The best way will be for us to take Mysie and Valetta, and let them go to the High School; and there is a capital day-school for little boys, close to St. Andrew’s, for Fergus, and Gillian can go there too, or join classes in whatever she pleases.’
‘My Brownie! Have you really room for all those?’
‘Oh yes! The three girls in the spare room and dressing-room, and Fergus in the little room over the porch. I will write to Fanny; I gave her a hint.’
‘And I have no doubt that Primrose will be a delight to her aunt Alethea, poor little dear! Yes, that makes it all easy, for in the holidays I know the boys are sure of a welcome at the dear old home, or Hal might have one or two of them at his Curacy.’
The gong sounded for the melancholy dinner that had to go on all the same, and in the midst all were startled by the arrival of a telegram, which Macrae, looking awestruck, actually delivered to Harry instead of to his mistress; but it was not from Ceylon. It was from Colonel Mohun, from Beechcroft: ‘Coming 6.30. Going with you. Send children here.’
Never were twenty words, including addresses, more satisfactory. The tears came, for the first time, to Lady Merrifield’s eyes at the kindness of her brothers, and Harry was quite satisfied that his uncle would be a far better escort than himself or Macrae. Aunt Jane went off to send her telegram home and write some needful letters, and Lady Merrifield announced her arrangements to those whom they concerned.
‘Oh! mamma, don’t,’ exclaimed Valetta; ‘all the guinea-pigs will die.’
‘I thought,’ said Gillian, ‘that we might stay here with Miss Vincent to look after us.’
‘That will not do in her mother’s state. Mrs. Vincent cannot be moved up here, and I could not lay such a burthen on them.’