“Chair?” repeated Sir John in laughing puzzlement. “I fear I don’t recall ... but we will talk of this later. For the present, George, I want you to drive over to old Penelope and warn her that she hath visitors on the way to drink tea with her——”
“Say two visitors, Mr. Potter,” laughed a second voice, and over Sir John’s shoulder peeped my lady’s lovely face; whereupon Mr. Potter flourished his whip exultantly and, wheeling the likely horse, drove off at such a pace that he was necessitated to hug the small, protesting Aged Soul for safety’s sake.
“’Twill give our revered witch due time to don the silken gown, mayhap, my Rose o’ love.”
“Aye, though—I think ’tis donned already, sir.”
“She expects us, then?”
“She doth, John!... And Aunt Lucinda will be there, and Sir Hector ... unless we have outworn their patience.”
“But what shall bring them there? How know you this, child?”
“’Faith, sir, ’tis because I invited ’em to meet us at Penelope’s cottage——”
“Ha, wert so sure we should come back together, my Herminia?”
“Why, of course, John dear. Though I little thought we should ha’ kept them so long a-waiting—see, the sun is set already and—nay, sir ... oh, for mercy’s sake, John ... you’ll ha’ my hair all down——”