"But you will want your own dinner," said little Agnes.
"My own dinner doesn't matter in the very least. I will have a snatch of something when I go downstairs. Now come along."
She began to ply her oars again, and in a minute or two they had landed, the boat had been moored, and the two children went up to the house.
Hughie was standing on the steps, blowing a loud whistle through his fingers.
"Hullo, Aggie!" he cried. "Why, you are looking as fresh as possible; and Miss Irene—the wonderful Miss Irene"—here he gave a mocking bow to Irene—"has taken you under her wing. I can tell you sister Emily is pretty jealous."
Irene looked at him with small favor.
"Will you please let us pass?" she said.
The boy made another sweeping bow, and Irene and little Agnes passed into the house. They went upstairs. Irene took her little friend to the pink room next to her own. Here all her things had been unpacked already by Miss Frost herself, who had now, however, vanished. Agnes, tired, happy, pleased with her new friend, fearing nothing, trusting all things, was soon got into bed, and Irene sat by her until she dropped asleep. Then she laid a light kiss on her forehead, closed the door softly, and went downstairs.
Dinner was a thing of the past. Hughie and Miss Frost were pacing about in one of the corridors. Irene ran into the drawing-room. Lady Jane was lying on one of the sofas, half-asleep. She started up when she saw her daughter, and said in a quiet tone, "You will want some dinner, won't you?"
"Yes; I have desired James to give me something. He is getting it ready."