Salome looked ruefully at the book, a French story by Madame Pressensé which has delighted many children in its day and generation.
"'L'Institutrice' does not belong to Miss Barnes," Salome said; "it is Ada's. Why should she be in such a fuss? and Ada won't mind."
"Well, come on," Reginald said; "and don't put out every one by being late."
"Who is come?" Salome asked, as the brother and sister walked towards the house together. "Who came in the carriage just now?"
"It was only father. Mr. Stone brought him back from Fairchester in his brougham."
"Father!" Salome exclaimed. "How very odd! And why did Mr. Stone drive him home?"
The sound of the bell stopped any reply from Reginald; and Salome, being obliged to go up to her room to give her hair a superficial combing, and her hands a hasty dip in water, entered the dining-room just as the whole party were assembled.
Mrs. Wilton always lunched with the children at one o'clock, but to-day her place at the head of the table was taken by Miss Barnes.
"Where is mother?" was Salome's instant inquiry.
"You are very late, as usual, Salome," was Miss Barnes's rejoinder; it could not be called a reply.