“Oh! it is you?” said Mr. Rivers politely. “Oh, no, do not think of exchanging it. I am rejoiced that one should have it who can appreciate it. It was its falling into the hands of a stranger that I disliked. You think with me, that it is one of her best drawings?”
“Yes, I do,” said Norman, still rather hesitating. “She did that with C—, when he was here last year. He taught her very well. Have you that other here, that you took with him, my dear? The view from the gate, I mean.”
“No, dear papa. You told me not to sell that.”
“Ah! I remember; that is right. But there are some very pretty copies from Prout here.”
While he was seeking them, Meta contrived to whisper, “If you could persuade him to go indoors—this confusion of people is so bad for him, and I must not come away. I was in hopes of Dr. May, but he is with the little ones.”
Norman signed comprehension, and Meta said, “Those copies are not worth seeing, but you know, papa, you have the originals in the library.”
Mr. Rivers looked pleased, but was certain that Norman could not prefer the sketches to this gay scene. However, it took very little persuasion to induce him to do what he wished, and he took Norman’s arm, crossed the lawn, and arrived in his own study, where it was a great treat to him to catch any one who would admire his accumulation of prints, drawings, coins, etc.; and his young friend was both very well amused and pleased to be setting Miss Rivers’s mind at ease on her father’s account. It was not till half-past four that Dr. May knocked at the door, and stood surprised at finding his son there. Mr. Rivers spoke warmly of the young Oxonian’s kindness in leaving the fair for an old man, and praised Norman’s taste in art. Norman rose to take leave, but still thought it incumbent on him to offer to give up the picture, if Mr. Rivers set an especial value on it. But Mr. Rivers went to the length of being very glad that it was in his possession, and added to it a very pretty drawing of the same size, by a noted master, which had been in the water-colour exhibition, and, while Norman walked away, well pleased, Mr. Rivers began to extol him to his father, as a very superior and sensible young man, of great promise, and began to wish George had the same turn.
Norman, on returning to the fancy fair, found the world in all the ardour of raffles. Lady Leonora’s contributions were the chief prizes, which attracted every one, and, of course, the result was delightfully incongruous. Poor Ethel, who had been persuaded to venture a shilling to please Blanche, who had spent all her own, obtained the two jars in potichomanie, and was regarding them with a face worth painting. Harvey Anderson had a doll, George Rivers a wooden monkey, that jumped over a stick; and, if Hector Ernescliffe was enchanted at winning a beautiful mother-of-pearl inlaid workbox, which he had vainly wished to buy for Margaret, Flora only gained a match-box of her own, well known always to miss fire, but which had been decided to be good enough for the bazaar.
By fair means or foul, the commodities were cleared off, and, while the sunbeams faded from the trodden grass, the crowds disappeared, and the vague compliment, “a very good bazaar,” was exchanged between the lingering sellers and their friends.
Flora was again to sleep at the Grange, and return the next day, for a committee to be held over the gains, which were not yet fully ascertained. So Dr. May gathered his flock together, and packed them, boys and all, into the two conveyances, and Ethel bade Meta good-night, almost wondering to hear her merry voice say, “It has been a delightful day, has it not? It was so kind of your brother to take care of papa.”