‘Alias temper and deceitfulness.’
‘Something of both. You know the body often suffers when things are not thrown out in a wholesome explosion at once, but go simmering on; and I mean to let this poor child alone till she is well.’
‘Ah! here comes the pony-carriage. Well, Lily, send her to me if you repent.’
The sisters came out to find the Butterfly’s Ball in full action. Fly had become a Butterfly by the help of a battered pair of fairy wings, stretched on wire, which were part of the theatrical stock. ‘The shy little Dormouse’ was creeping about on all fours under a fur jacket, with a dilapidated boa for a long tail, but her ‘blind brother the Mole’ had escaped from her, and had been transformed into the Frog, by means of a spotted handkerchief over his back, and tremendous leap-frog jumps. Primrose, in another pair of fairy wings, was personating the Dragon-fly and all his relations, ‘green, orange, and blue.’ Valetta, in perfect content with the present, with a queer pair of ears, and a tail made of an old brush, sat up and nibbled as Squirrel. The Grasshopper was performing antics which made him not easily distinguishable from the Frog, and the Spider was actually descending by a rope from the balusters, while his mother, standing somewhat aghast, breathed a hope that ‘poor Harlequin’s’ fall was not part of the programme. But she did not interfere, having trust in the gymnastics that were studied at school by Jasper, who had been beguiled into the game by Fly’s fascinations.
‘A far more realistic performance than the Rotherwood Butterfly’s Ball is likely to be,’ said Aunt Jane, aside, as the various guests came up for her departing kiss. ‘And much more entertaining, if they could only think so. Where’s Gillian?’
Gillian appeared on the stairs in her own person at the moment. She said Mrs. Halfpenny had called her, and told her that ‘Miss Dollars’ was crying, and that she did not think the child ought to be left alone long to fret herself, but Saturday morning needments called away nurse herself, so she had ordered in Miss Gillian as her substitute. Gillian was reading to her, and had only come away to make her farewells to Aunt Jane.
‘That is right, my dear,’ said her mother; ‘I will come and sit with her after luncheon.’
For the whole youthful family were to turn out to superintend the replantation of the much-enduring fir, which, it was hoped, might survive for many another Christmas.
However, Lady Merrifield could not keep her promise, for a whole party of visitors arrived just after the children’s dinner was over.
‘And it’s old Mrs. Norgood,’ sighed Gillian, looking over the balusters, ‘and she always slays for ages!’