“There is nothing in life,” Lady Cynthia murmured brokenly, “so wonderful as this.”
Francis and Margaret came out from the house, the former carrying a silver tray. They had spent a considerable time over their task, but Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy were still absent. Hedges followed them, a little worried.
“Shall I ring the gong, madam?” he asked Margaret. “Cook has taken such pains with her omelette.”
“I think you had better, Hedges,” Margaret assented.
The gong rang out—and rang again. Presently Lady Cynthia and Sir Timothy appeared upon the bridge and crossed the lawn. They were walking a little apart. Lady Cynthia was looking down at some roses which she had gathered. Sir Timothy's unconcern seemed a trifle overdone. Margaret laughed very softly.
“A stepmother, Francis!” she whispered. “Just fancy Cynthia as a stepmother!”