Ingleby had now to go to Mrs. Acheson, and tell her that Dorothy was not coming home to luncheon.
As this often happened when she stayed at Lady Burnside's, Mrs. Acheson was not anxious. Ingleby kept back the expedition to Colla, and Mrs. Acheson asked no questions then.
But as the afternoon wore on, and Dorothy did not return, escorted as usual by Willy and Irene Packingham, Mrs. Acheson told Ingleby she had better go to Lady Burnside and bring Dorothy home with her.
"I have not seen the child to-day," she said, "except when I was half asleep, when she came to wish me a 'Happy New Year!' And this present has arrived for her from her uncle at Coldchester. Look, Ingleby; is it not sweet? I could not resist peeping into the box. Won't she be delighted!"
The box contained two little figures like dormice, with long tails and bright eyes, in a cosy nest. The head of each little mouse opened, and then inside one was the prettiest little scent-bottle you can imagine, and inside the other a pair of scissors, with silver handles, and a tiny thimble on a little crimson velvet cushion.
How Ingleby wished Dorothy Dormouse, whose name was written on the card tied to the box, was there, I cannot tell you; but how little did Ingleby or any one else guess where she was at that moment!
Ingleby put off going to the Villa Lucia till the last moment, and arrived at the gate just as the donkeys came merrily along the road.
Francesco could not resist the delight of sending them all at full trot for the last quarter of a mile, and Crawley, grasping Baby Bob tightly with one arm, and with her other hand holding the pommel of the saddle, jogged up and down like any heavy dragoon soldier; while Irene, and Willy, and Ella, and the Merediths came on urging their tired steeds, and asking Crawley if it was not "jolly to canter," while poor Crawley, breathless and angry gasped out that she had a dreadful stitch in her side, and that she would never mount a donkey again.
Marietta came on behind, with the ends of her scarlet handkerchief on her head flapping in the wind, and though apparently not hurrying herself, she took such strides with her large, heavily-shod feet, that she was soon at the gate.
There was the usual bustle of dismounting, and some scolding from Crawley, and a few sharp raps administered by Marietta to Francesco for making the donkeys canter; while poor Ingleby's excited questions were not even noticed.