“With centric and concentric scribbled o’er
Cycle and epicycle orb in orb.”
“Epicycle?” cried Vera. “I saw it advertised in the Queen. A splendid one.”
“Ah! Magdalen, you will think I have not taught them their Milton,” said Mrs. Best, as both elders burst out laughing; and Agatha said, in an undertone, “Don’t make yourself such a goose, Vera.”
“I should think it rather rough sailing for bikes,” said Paulina.
“I should have thought so, myself,” returned Magdalen; “but the Clipstone girls do not seem to think so. I see them sailing merrily into Rockstone.”
“You have neighbours, then?” said Vera.
“Certainly. Rockstone supplies a good deal. Here are various cards of people whose visits are yet to be returned. Clipstone is further off; but the daughters will be nice friends for you. I met one of them before, when she was staying at Lord Rotherwood’s. But I am afraid your boxes are hardly come yet. Still, you will like to take off your things before dinner, even if you cannot unpack.”
She led the way, and disposed of each girl in her new quarters, explaining to Agatha that her’s and her little lodger were only temporary; but it struck upon her rather painfully that the only word of approbation or comfort came from Mrs. Best, and there were no notes at all of admiration of the scenery.
“Well,” she said to herself, “much is not to be expected from people who have been tired and shaken up in a station cab over newly-mended roads! Were they as bad when I came? But then I could look out, and did not hear poor Sophy’s groans all the way. I rather wish she had not come with them, though I am glad to see her again for this last time.”
Meantime the four girls had congregated in the room appropriated to Vera and Paulina. “Here are the necessaries of life,” said Agatha, handing out a brush and comb. “That slow wain may roll its course in utter darkness before it comes here.”