Lady Barbara had started early, as she really wished to find her friends at home; and accordingly, when the stairs were mounted, and the aunt and niece were ushered into a pretty bright-looking drawing-room, there they found all that were not at school enjoying their after-dinner hour of liberty with their father and mother.
Lord de la Poer himself had the youngest in his arms, and looked very much as if he had only just scrambled up from the floor; his wife was really sitting on the ground, helping two little ones to put up a puzzle of wild beasts; and there was a little herd of girls at the farther corner, all very busy over something, towards which Kate’s longing eyes at once turned—even in the midst of Lord de la Poer’s very kind greeting, and his wife’s no less friendly welcome.
It was true that, as Lady Barbara had said, they were all exceedingly well-bred children. Even the little fellow in his father’s arms, though but eighteen months old, made no objection to hold out his fat hand graciously, and showed no shyness when Lady Barbara kissed him! and the others all waited quietly over their several occupations, neither shrinking foolishly from notice, nor putting themselves forward to claim it. Only the four sisters came up, and took their own special visitor into the midst of them as their own property; the elder of them, however, at a sign from her mamma, taking the baby in her arms, and carrying him off, followed by the other two small ones—only pausing at the door for him to kiss his little hand, and wave it in the prettiest fashion of baby stateliness.
The other sisters drew Kate back with them into the room, where they had been busy. Generally, however much she and Sylvia might wish it, they had found acquaintance with other children absolutely impossible in the presence of grown-up people, whose eyes and voices seemed to strike all parties dumb. But these children seemed in no wise constrained: one of them said at once, “We are so glad you are come. Mamma said she thought you would before we went out, one of those days.”
“Isn’t it horrid going out in London?” asked Kate, at once set at ease.
“It is not so nice as it is at home,” said one of the girls; laughing; “except when it is our turn to go out with Mamma.”
“She takes us all out in turn,” explained another, “from Fanny, down to little Cecil the baby—and that is our great time for talking to her, when one has her all alone.”
“And does she never take you out in the country?”
“Oh yes! but there are people staying with us then, or else she goes out with Papa. It is not a regular drive every day, as it is here.”
Kate would not have had a drive with Aunt Barbara every day, for more than she could well say. However, she was discreet enough not to say so, and asked what they did on other days.