“Away, away,
In the cave no longer stay;
Others come to share our play;”
and one of the genies drew her aside, while another blindfolded victim was being introduced with the same rites, only fare more willingly. The only way open to here was that which led to the window of the dining-room, where she found Anne with the children who had had their share, and were admiring their prizes. Anne tried to soothe her by saying, “You see every one is served alike. They thought it would be newer than a tree.”
“Did you mean to give me this?” asked a little girl, in whose hands Cecil had thrust her dust-pan, without a glance at it.
“Oh the ring!” said Anne. “You must keep that, Mrs. Poynsett thought you would like it. It is a gem—some Greek goddess, I think.”
“Is this her arrangement?” asked Cecil, pointing to the dust-pan.
“Oh no! she knew nothing about that, nor I; but you see every one has something droll. See what Mr. Bowater has!”
And Herbert Bowater showed that decidedly uncomplimentary penwiper, where the ass’s head declares “There are two of us;” while every child had some absurdity to show; and Miss Moy’s shrieks of delight were already audible at a tortoise-shell pen-holder disguised as a hunting-whip.
“I must go to my friends,” said Cecil, vouchsafing no admiration of the ring, though she had seen enough to perceive that it was a beautifully engraved ruby; and she hurried back to the library, but only to find all her birds flown, and the room empty! Pursuing them to the drawing-room, she saw only the backs of a few, in the rearmost rank of the eager candidates for admission to the magic cave.
Lady Tyrrell alone saw her, and turned back from the eager multitude, to say in her low, modulated voice, “Beaten, my dear. Able strategy on la belle mère’s part.”
“Where’s Mrs. Tallboys?”