“Yes, I want you to see her, she is so beautiful!”
“If you will let me know when you can come, I will meet you at the foot of the mountain and bring you up in my car.”
“But she drives it, don’t she? I saw her that day when she ran into that other car down in Overlook.”
“I shall drive the car myself when I come to meet you.”
“Oh, then I’d like it!” the child said eagerly. “And I can bring her to-morrow, if it doesn’t rain.”
“And your name?” asked Polly. “I ought to know it, in case something should occur so that I couldn’t come.”
“It isn’t a pretty one like Rosalind. I was named for father and mother both. I hate it! It is Oscarlucy—Ferne.”
“That isn’t a bad name,” smiled Polly reassuringly. “Ferne is lovely. I will write it down as soon as I get home.”
Polly and Lilith conjectured as to the possible connection between Benedicta and the family of Oscarlucy Ferne; but they came to no definite conclusion.
At half-past five o’clock the sandwiches and cakes were served and eaten; but Benedicta did not appear until going-home time. That she had returned earlier as far as the big birch-tree was affirmed by Grissel, whose sharp eyes had spied her peering between the branches. The picnic seemed to have missed something through the housekeeper’s absence.