“Oh, dear no, Trigger was with him, but he made no mention, that I heard, as to how far he was going, and it was amusing to hear how he gave the doctor the slip. Peters, it appears, came in very early and was prying about, wanting in a more friendly spirit to know this, that and the other, when our friend Harry, in a humorous way, sent him off on a fool’s errand. After breakfast, we may get some news as to where they descended.”
“They will have to make,” said Miss Chain, with evident anxiety, “an exceedingly short trip.”
“I should think so,” said Edith, “considering that the wind blows towards the sea. Surely they would not drop near the Channel.”
The squire, who wanted his breakfast, replied curtly,—
“I daresay they will; but pray, Edith, do not let us enter upon fruitless speculations, as we may hear at any moment that they are perfectly safe.”
“I’m not at all sure that this ascent of Mr Goodall’s was not premeditated,” said Miss Dove, seriously, “for I noticed when Mr Goodall and you, father, left us in the carriage for Lewes, that you both were evidently hatching some mysterious plan, and I passed a most restless night in consequence, but I hope that no wild adventure has taken place.”
“My dear, Edith, if we fail to receive good news before dinner, I will readily grant that I was wrong for not advising Harry Goodall to let out the gas before the storm came on,” replied her father, evasively.
“How I wish it had been,” said Edith, who looked at Miss Chain, with anxiety depicted on her face.
“I knew,” added the squire, “that our brave young friend would sooner—well, I won’t say what. Be patient. It will all be right in the end, depend on it.”
“Now, don’t take a gloomy view of things, dear Edith,” said Miss Chain, “for, even if he were to attempt to cross the Channel, I have heard Mr Goodall say that if ever a balloon was fitted for service of that kind, his new silk balloon was the one. But you are eating nothing, dear.”