In other ways besides amusing conversation, Sir Algernon’s presence was a boon to the ladies. He was a first-rate whip, and the four-in-hand which St. Quentin used to drive was had out from the stables—where it and his shattered motor-car had stood so long idle together—for the benefit of Sir Algernon. He took Lady Frederica and Sydney out in it: one day they even went as far as Donisbro’ and lunched at the principal hotel there.
Sydney wished to lunch at the Deanery, that she might return a book Miss Morrell had lent her, but this Lady Frederica would not allow.
“If you will solemnly swear not to go into the Deanery drawing-room on any excuse whatsoever, I shall be delighted to escort you to the door, Miss Lisle,” Sir Algernon suggested good-naturedly, noticing the way her face fell at Lady Frederica’s refusal. “We shouldn’t take above twenty minutes getting there and back, if you only leave the book at the door. If Lady Frederica will allow us, we will go directly after lunch, while she is choosing those cards she spoke of.”
Lady Frederica agreed readily enough to this arrangement, and the two set out together when their lunch was over, with a parting direction on her part, “Be sure you hurry, for the afternoons are so short, and we must start early on our homeward drive.”
They left the parcel with the Deanery footman, and retraced their steps through the Close and up the steep High Street of Donisbro’.
The shops were very gay with Christmas cards and presents: Sir Algernon inquired if Miss Lisle still retained a taste for turkey and plum-pudding? She answered absently, for the Christmas preparations brought back home with a painful clearness. She thought of the shopping expeditions which became so many as Christmas Eve drew on, and the numberless secrets with which the tall old house seemed packed from garret to cellar, and the wild excitement of Christmas Eve; when all the boys and girls who might be trusted to be quite conformable, went out to see the brilliant show of Christmas shops under the guardianship of Hugh and Mildred.
“What’s the girl thinking of?” Sir Algernon asked himself, a little piqued, for he was not used to having his remarks received with inattention or indifference.
Then suddenly a light dawned on him, for Sydney’s eyes, which had been fixed rather absently upon the sloppy pavement before her, grew bright with recognition. She broke into a cry of joy, and in a second had sprung forward to seize both the outstretched hands of a young man, who was hurrying down the street towards her. “Oh, Hugh! Hugh!”
“By Jove!” Sir Algernon let out between his teeth, as he stood aside, forgotten by both.
“Hugh! what are you doing at Donisbro’?”