The ladies and the Colonel were sent home in Mrs. Evelyn’s carriage, where Ellen purred about Esther’s happiness and good fortune all the way back. Caroline lingered, somewhat purposely, writing a note that she might see the young men when they came back.
They wished her good-night in their several fashions.
“Good-night, mother. Well, some people are born with silver spoons!”
“Good-night, mother dear. Don’t you think Fordham looks dreadful?”
“Oh, no, Armie; much better than when I came up to town.”
“Good-night, Mother Carey. If those young folks make all their parties so jolly, it will be the pleasantest house in London! Good-night!”
“Mother,” said Jock, as the cousin, softly humming a tune, sprang up the stairs, “does the wind sit in that quarter?”
“I am grievously afraid that it does,” she said.
“It is no wonder,” he said, doctoring the wick of his candle with her knitting-needle. “Did you know it before?”
“I began to suspect it after the accident, but I was not sure; nor am I now.”