‘Going on capitally, better than he deserves, the young scamp, for suppressing all symptoms for fear he should be hindered from coming home. His mother was in a proper fright, she showed him to the doctor on the way, who told her to put him to bed at once, and send his sister out of the house. She never set eyes on him, or I would not have brought her here.’
‘I am exceedingly glad you have,’ said Lady Merrifield, bending for another kiss.
‘And Lily, I’ve done another awful thing. Victoria kept old nurse to help with Ivinghoe, and we brought the Swiss bonne, Louise, away with us, but the poor thing found her sister very ill in London, and I hadn’t the heart to bring her away, so Phyllis said she would do for herself, if your maid, or some of them, would have an eye to her.’
‘There! I’m doubly glad, Rotherwood! If I had any fears it was not of you, or Phyllis; but that like Vich Ian Vhor, she should have her tail on. And, oh! Rotherwood, do you know what you are in for?’
‘High jinks of some sort, I’ve no doubt. We picked up a couple of boxes at Gunter’s and Miller’s with a view thereto. Who is master of the revels?’
‘Jane. She’s too deep in preparations to come forth at present. Gillian, will you take Phyllis to the nursery, and take care of her. We are to have a very high tea at half-past six; but, Rotherwood, I promise that another day you shall have a respectable dinner in this house.’
‘Return to the prose of life, eh, Lily? Well, Fly, what do you think of it?’
‘Oh, daddy, aren’t you glad we came?’ she cried, dancing off, in Gillian’s wake, arm-in-arm with Mysie and Valetta, while he called after her, ‘Find the boxes, and make them over to the right quarter.’
This was enough to make the whole bevy of children rush away, and only the three elders remained. Lord Rotherwood said, ‘This is short notice. Lily; but I did not know Reginald was here, and I thought you might want help. Don’t be frightened, only a queer thing has happened. I went to W.‘s bank yesterday. I thought they looked at me as if something was up, and by-and-by one of the partners came and took me into his private room. There he showed me a cheque, and asked my opinion whether the writing was Maurice’s. And I should say it decidedly was, but it was actually for seventy pounds, payable to order of Miss Dolores M. Mohun.’
‘Seventy!’