"'T'aint likely we'd give it up to he," said yet another visitor, casting looks of contempt on the footman who had tried to steal their precious cards.
The children, open-mouthed, clung to their parents, but the Thomas girls had been put first as they knew Miss Toney so well.
Up they came, men, women, and children, all sizes, dressed in varied costumes, and all staring hard at Toney, who, in her simple morning dress, was beaming with pleasure, and her eyes seemed to dance with glee.
"How do you do? How do you? Oh, Mr. Grant, it is good of you to come with your lame foot. Mrs. Chapman, the children are to go to their big room straight, lots of amusements for them, and they'll be well taken care of. Lady Carew and Miss Maud Hamilton have come to entertain you. Oh please, Mrs. Curtis, do shake hands (Mrs. Curtis was curtseying). What a lovely nosegay! How kind of you. Now, Miss Hamilton, will you take the first party round the house. There are about thirty here," and Maud went off.
"How do you do? This is nice of you to come. You're to go round the house anywhere except in Lady Dove's room, she's got a headache or something."
"Shan't we hurt the carpets, miss, with our boots?" said a patient looking woman, "and here's some of our last roses, miss, for your birthday. I'm sure we all wish you a very, very long life."
"Thank you ever so much," and Toney was already holding an arm-full of very tight posies. "Now, Mr. Waycott, will you take the second party. Show them my little room at the top of the house for they can see the tops of their cottages and chimneys from there. Sir Evas is coming soon. He had to see a bit to everything. Dinner's very punctual at six, so please don't stop too long."
Lewis Waycott obeyed. He had come there to obey to-day, and it was no good to think of shyness with Toney there. She was really happy with these people, and could not have been condescending to them had she tried. These poor cottagers, whose dull lives were seldom varied, were to have a real good day, and enjoy themselves, that was the idea that filled Toney's mind. Her one anxiety was the fear that Lady Dove would wake and come forth. At last the stream left off and only a few stragglers appeared. Toney was keeping the last batch for herself, and the children were now safely housed in the barn house, listening spell-bound to a ventriloquist with Mrs. Faber in charge. She was indeed happy, there was a great affinity between herself and children. The tea-tables were spread, and the enjoyment of the little ones was doubled by secret glances at the good things which would soon find their way down their throats.
"Hulloa!" called out the ventriloquist, putting his head up a chimney, "are you there, Bill, why don't you come down? I say, what's to day?" "A coming of old age." "You silly, not old age, a coming of age." "Whose coming?" "Well, it ain't my coming, for I ain't a-coming for anyone"—and so on till the children clapped and shouted, for suddenly Miss Toney herself appeared like a sudden burst of sunshine, and stayed ten minutes making fun.
"Oh, Chum, aren't they happy?"