"A happy Christmas!" she said, and then in the same breath, "how well you look, and how nice! And oh, what a wonderful lot of toys! Why, Babsy, Santa Claus must have nearly broken his back bringing all these things."
With the child nestling in her arms, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
"I've got a most awful headache," she said wearily. "We were up till any hour this morning.... Have you some strong smelling-salts, Caroline? Chris Bardolph brought me over here in the motor." She sniffed the salts, and lay aback with closed eyes for awhile. Then she said, "I thought the air would do me good, but I feel quite cracked up. Where is everybody?" she asked the next moment languidly; and she smiled when she heard that the whole party had migrated to church.
"Has he gone?" she asked, and then she answered the question herself; "but of course. I am sure he must sing hymns most beautifully."
"I don't think Mr. Haverford went with the others," Caroline said; "he said he would take Betty and the maid who has gone with her to mass."
"But he is not a Catholic," Mrs. Lancing observed quickly; "there is another duty for me! I shall have to try and make a convert of him. Oh dear, my head!... It feels as if it would come in two! Babsy darling, mummy must go down and rest in her own room...."
But Babsy clung to her mother, refusing to be separated, and of course got her way.
Left to herself, Caroline Graniger stood and looked out of the window thoughtfully. A shadow had gathered on her face.
She felt both pained and irritated, and found herself hoping almost eagerly that Mrs. Lancing would not speak of Rupert Haverford to others in that slighting, half-mocking manner.
From where she stood she could see right down almost to the entrance gates, for the trees were leafless, and the window where she stood was set high.