“Then I know the other,” said Edred. “Aunt Edith’s coming.”
And she was—indeed, at that very moment, as they looked through the window, they saw her blue dress coming over the hill, and joyously tore out to meet her.
It was after the roast chicken, when it was nearly dark and almost bedtime, that Aunt Edith said, suddenly—
“Children, there’s something I wanted to tell you. I’ve hesitated about it a good deal, but I think we oughtn’t to have any secrets from each other.”
Edred and Elfrida exchanged guilty glances.
“Not real secrets, of course,” said Edred, hastily; “but you don’t mind our having magic secrets, do you?”
“Of course not,” said Aunt Edith, smiling; “and what I’m going to tell you is rather like magic—if it’s true. I don’t know yet whether it’s true or not.”
Here Aunt Edith put an arm round each of the children as they sat on the broad window-seat, and swallowed something in her throat and sniffed.
“Oh, it’s not bad news, is it?” Elfrida cried. “Oh, darling auntie, don’t be miserable, and don’t say that they’ve found out that Arden isn’t ours, or that Edred isn’t really Lord Arden, or something.”
“Would you mind so very much,” said Aunt Edith gently, “if you weren’t Lord Arden, Edred? Because——”