CHAPTER IV.
DISAPPOINTED HOPES.
or the next two or three days his family saw little of Hal. Morning, afternoon, and evening he was over at the Greys'. His meals he took in the schoolroom, and though nurse would have allowed him to come back to the nursery, if he had cared to do so, he very much preferred to have them in solitary state. He seemed to see nothing ridiculous in sitting there by himself; indeed, as he confided to Drusie, he thought it perfectly absurd that a boy of his age should ever have been expected to take them in the nursery.
She and the rest had plenty of time to make all their preparations for the double birthday to be celebrated on Tuesday, for Hal left them completely to themselves; and when he did see them, he was so full of all that he and Dodds Major did together that he had no time to show any interest in them.
"I should very much like to ask him whether he intends to take part in the fight to-morrow, or whether he means to spend the day as usual with his friend," said Helen.
It was late on Monday evening, and they had brought all their preparations to a satisfactory conclusion. The flag—a bright, new Union Jack—had been fastened to a long, slender pole, and was quite ready to be hoisted. The ammunition was arranged in a neat, high pile, and the armour lay ready to hand.
And in the garden summer-house, where, a few days back, the secret meeting had been held, the materials for a most sumptuous feast were in readiness to refresh the weary warriors when the day's work was done.
On previous birthdays they had always been satisfied with lemonade as a drink, but Drusie, feeling that this was a special occasion, had considered that lemonade was, perhaps, hardly a suitable form of refreshment; and so, from a recipe which she was proud to think was entirely out of her own head, she had concocted a bottle of red wine.
"And I think," she said, as she carefully hid it under the seat—"I think that when you taste it you will say that you never in all your lives before drank anything like it."