As soon as he had left, Miss Meeke, overwhelmed with the consciousness of her position, stole away to her own room.
And then Wynnette and Elva, full of the importance of their communication, broke out with their wonderful “pipers’ news” that Miss Meeke was going to be married to Dr. Ingle, and they were going to housekeeping in a beautiful, new cottage in the village, and that they—Wynnette and Elva—were to go whenever they pleased to spend weeks and weeks with the newly wedded pair, who would always keep a lovely bedroom for their use.
Every one present had the good nature to receive this story as the very newest news, and to be delightfully surprised and enchanted to hear it.
After dinner the evening passed, as usual during the holiday week, in merry parlor games.
On Sunday the whole family went to church, where, it is pleasant to record, the congregation stared less at the Forces and occupied themselves more with their devotions than they had been able to do on Christmas Day.
“You see,” said Wynnette, confidentially, to Elva, on their way home, “that it was better for Odalite to take the bull by the horns at once—to face the music promptly—to break the ice bravely—to take the plunge and have it all over! Oh, you know what I mean well enough, Elf, although you pretend to look so puzzled! I mean, it was wise in Odalite to go to church on Christmas Day, just as usual—just as if nothing had happened there on the Tuesday before—and have it all over! And now it is all over. The great gun is fired, and no one is killed or wounded! That is to say that Odalite has made her first appearance in public after her catastrophe, and she has stood all the staring and has lived through it! And now she has made her second appearance, and escaped all the staring! And the battle has been fought and victory won! Do you understand?”
“I understand a little, but, if you go on explaining, I shall not understand at all,” replied Elva, with the cruel candor of childhood.
And the subject was immediately dropped.
On Monday morning, while the family party were gathered in the drawing room, opening their letters and papers, which the mail messenger had just brought from the post office, there came an early visitor.
Tom Grandiere, looking more red-headed, freckle-faced, blushing and blundering than usual, arrived, as the bearer of a verbal invitation to attend an informal party, to be composed mostly of young people, at Oldfield Lodge, on Thursday evening, the thirty-first, to dance the Old Year out and the New Year in.