But of course when the morning came she did keep him waiting. With the best intentions, Chris seldom managed to be ready for anything. And Mordaunt had nearly half an hour to wait before she joined him.
She raced down at last with airy apology. "I'm very sorry really. But it was Cinders' fault. We went to be photographed, and I couldn't get him to sit at the right angle. And then when I got back I had to dress, and everything went wrong."
She was carrying Cinders under her arm and evidently meant him to join their expedition. She did not look as if everything had gone wrong with her, neither did she look particularly penitent. She laughed up at him merrily, and he—because he could not help it—drew her to him and kissed her.
"Oh, but you should kiss Cinders too," she said. "I love kissing Cinders.
He is like satin."
"If we don't start we shall never get there," observed Mordaunt.
"What an obvious remark!" laughed Chris. "Let's start at once. I hope you are going to scorch. Wouldn't it be funny if the motor broke down and we had to spend the night under a hedge? We should enjoy that, shouldn't we, Cinders? We would pretend we were gipsies or organ-grinders. Oh, Trevor, it is a sweet motor! Do let me drive!"
"While I sit behind with Cinders?" he said. "Thanks very much, but I'd rather not. Do you think we want Cinders, by the way?"
She opened her eyes wide in astonishment. Her motor-bonnet gave her a very babyish appearance. She hugged her favourite to her as she might have hugged a doll.
"Of course we want Cinders! Why, he has been looking forward to it for ever so long. Kellerton is home to him, you know."
"Oh, very well! Jump in," said Mordaunt, with resignation. "Are you going to sit beside me?"