"It's perfectly hideous!" she exclaimed; "I can't sit here!"
But she did sit there, staring at nothing for a good half-hour till the dressing-bell rang. In the evening she took up that very wise book, On the Face of the Waters, and read in what manner Kate Erleton had refused "her chance."
When little Roger woke next morning he remembered that something very pleasant was to happen that day. He was going with his father to the riding-school in the town to see a pony, and on that pony, if it proved suitable, he was to go hunting next winter. As the full significance of this tremendous occurrence was brought home to him in the shape of a pair of new and very stiff gaiters, he felt equal to negotiating the very biggest bullfinch; which may account for what happened half an hour later, as he stood in the hall waiting for the dog-cart.
The rain had come on again, heavy "Mayish rain," as Roger called it, but they didn't mind about that. His father was standing in the doorway looking very big in a wide white macintosh. His mother ran downstairs with her own macintosh cape for the little boy. As she reached the bottom step, the elder Roger came back into the hall. Perkins, who had been in "father's regiment" when father first joined, stood at the door with a rug over his arm, looking imperturbable as usual.
Lettice stooped to kiss her little son as she buttoned the cape at his neck. He caught at her hands as they fumbled with the stiff button, and said loudly,
"Kiss father too, mother dear, and wish us luck!"
Perkins turned his head quickly, looking back into the hall. Lettice felt the small insistent hands upon her own, and heard her husband's quick breathing just behind her. There flashed into her brain the thought that here and now was her "chance." She turned quickly and lifted up her small proud face towards her husband.
There was a flutter and flash of white macintosh in the dusky hall as Roger the elder caught his wife up in his arms and carried her into the dining-room. The door shut with a bang, and little Roger was left alone with Perkins, who blew his nose and waved the rug, exclaiming, in an excited whisper—-
"Bless your 'eart, sir, you've done it!"
Roger stood on the steps and waited; the smart little groom drove the dog-cart round and round the drive; ten minutes passed, and still father did not come.