‘What’s the good of that! That’s a hundred years ago. He’ll just make mamma and Uncle Regie of no good at all! And then there’s a girl too—’ (in a tone of inconceivable disgust) ‘I don’t want strange girls—an awful stuck-up swell of a Londoner, not able to do anything! I wish I had gone to spend Christmas with Bruce! I would if I had known it was to be like this.’
The speech brought Mysie to the verge of tears. Aunt Jane’s sharp ears heard it, and she looked at the head of the table, expecting to hear a rebuke; but Lady Merrifield turned a deaf ear on that side. Only after the meal, she called her son, ‘Jasper,’ she said, ‘I want to send a note to Redford, if you like to ride over with it. You need not come home till eight o’clock, if it is moonlight, it the boys are disengaged, and if you do really wish to keep out of the way.’
Jasper’s eyes fell under hers.
‘Mamma, I don’t want that.’
‘Only you said more than you meant, Japs. If it relieves your mind, it hurts other people. But I do want the note taken, so go and come back in time for the sports; which I don’t think you will find much damaged.’
Meantime, Aunt Jane had ensconced herself behind the curtains; where she admitted no one but Miss Vincent and Uncle Reginald, and in process of time, mamma and Macrae. The others were still fully employed in garnishing the tree, though it was only to bear lights, ornaments and sweets. All solid articles had been for some time past committed to a huge box, or ottoman, the veteran companion of the family travels, which stood in the centre of the bay. Into its capacious interior everybody had been dropping parcels of various sizes and shapes, with addresses in all sorts of hands, which were to find their destination on this great evening. This was part of the mystery that kept Mysie and Valetta in one continual dance and caper. It was all they could do not to peep between the curtains when the privileged mortals went in and out, bearing all sorts of mysterious loads well covered up from all eyes. Wilfred did make one attempt, but something extraordinary snapped at his nose, with a sharp crack, and drove him back with a start.
A lamp had been taken thither, and there really was nothing more to do to the tree, the scraps of packing had been picked up, and the hands, tingling from fir-needle pricks, had been washed, though not without protest from Valetta that it wasn’t worth while, and from Wilfred that it was all along of these horrid swells—!
The sound of wheels summoned Lady Merrifield and her brother from the place of mystery, and they were in the hall when a fresh gust of keen air came in from the door, an ulstered figure hurried in, and something small and furred was put into the lady’s embrace.
‘Here’s my Fly, Lily—! Look, Fly, here they all are—all the cousins. Off with the hat. Let us see your funny little face.’
It was a funny little smiling face, set in short, light, wavy hair, not exactly pretty, but with a bright, quaint, confiding look, as if used to be shown off by her father, and ready to make friends on the spot. ‘And how is your boy?’ as the round of greetings was completed, and the wraps thrown off.