‘Papa!’ exclaimed Fergus and Primrose.
‘No, it is not the right day, my dears. But here is a letter from Aunt Ada.’
‘Oh!’ in a different tone.
‘She writes for Aunt Jane. They will come down here next Monday because Aunt Jane is wanted to address the girls at the G.F.S. festival on Tuesday.’
‘Aunt Jane seems to have taken to public speaking,’ said Harry. ‘It would be rather a lark to hear her.’
‘You may have a chance,’ said Lady Merrifield, ‘for here is a note from Mrs. Blackburn to ask if I will be so very kind as to let them have the festival here. They had reckoned upon Tillington Park, where they have always had it before, but they hear that all the little Tillingtons have the measles, and they don’t think it safe to venture there.’
‘It will be great fun!’ said Gillian. ‘We will have all sorts of games, only I’m afraid they will be much stupider than the Irish girls.’
‘And ever so much stupider than the dear 111th children,’ sighed Mysie.
‘Aren’t they all great big girls?’ asked Valetta, disconsolately.
‘I believe twelve years old is the limit,’ said her mother. ‘Twelve-year-old girls have plenty of play in them, Vals, haven’t they, Mysie? Let me see—two hundred and thirty of them.’