‘Yes, certainly,’ said Lady Merrifield,’ or Primrose would not have gone out. Take care of Rotherwood, Regie. You know his room.’
And the two sisters crossed the hall, where the ‘very high tea’ was being laid; hearing from the regions above sounds of exquisite glee and merriment, as perfect and almost as inexpressive of anything else as the singing of birds, so that they themselves could not help answering with a laugh, before they vanished into the chamber of mystery.
Indeed, Phyllis’s conversation was like a fairy tale. Her brother’s illness, which was not enough to damp any one’s spirits, had prevented or hindered a grand children’s party as the Butterfly’s Ball, where she was to have been the Butterfly, and Lord Ivinghoe the Grasshopper, and all the children were to appear as one of the characters in Roscoe’s pretty poem. Never was anything more delightful to the imagination of the little cousins, and they could not marvel enough at her seeming so little uneasy about anything so charming, and quite ready and eager to throw herself headlong into all their present enjoyments, making wonderful surmises as to the mystery in preparation.
Dolores heard the laughing, and it did not suit with her vaguely uneasy and injured frame of mind; feeling dreadfully lonely too, as she came downstairs, dressed for the evening, but not knowing where to go, for the dining-room was engrossed, the schoolroom was dark and the fire out, the drawing-room occupied by the two gentlemen. She crouched down in one of the big arm-chairs on either side of the hearth in the hall, and began to read by the firelight. Presently Jasper came in from his ride, and began taking off his greatcoat, leggings, and boots, whistling as he did so, then, perceiving the tempting object of a black leg sticking out of the chair, he stole up across the soft carpet, and caught hold of the ankle. He received a vigorous kick in return (which perhaps he expected) but what he did not expect was the black figure that rose up in outraged dignity and indignation. ‘For shame! I won’t be insulted!’
‘Whew! I thought ‘twas Val! I beg your pardon.’
‘I shall ask my aunt if I am to be insulted.’
‘Well, if you choose to take it in that way—A man can’t do more than beg pardon! I’m sure I would never have presumed to touch you if I had known it was your Dolorousness.’
And he turned to walk away, just as the babbling ripple of laughter began to flow downstairs, and a whole mass of little girls intertwined together was descending. ‘I always hop,’ said a voice new to him, ‘except on the great staircase, and mother doesn’t like it there. But this is such a jolly stair. Can’t you hop?’
Hopping in a threefold embrace on a slippery stair was hardly a safe pastime, and before Jasper had time to utter more than’ Holloa there! take care!’ there descended suddenly on him an avalanche of little girls, ‘knocking him off his feet, so that all promiscuously rolled down two or three steps together. Fergus and Primrose, who had somehow been holding on behind,’ remained upright, but nevertheless screaming. The shrieks of the fallen were, however, laughter. There was a soft rug below, and by the time the gentlemen had rushed out of the dining-room, and the ladies from the curtained recess, giggling below and legs above were chiefly apparent.
‘Any one hurt?’ was of course Lady Merrifield’s cry.