But during the drive of two and a half miles from Sefton to Lavender House, Hester once more began to feel anxious and troubled. The Misses Bruce had gone off with some other passengers in a little omnibus to their small villa in the town, but Lavender House was some distance off, and the little omnibus never went so far.
An old-fashioned carriage, which the ladies told Hester belonged to Mrs Willis, had been sent to meet her, and a man whom the Misses Bruce addressed as “Thomas” helped to place her trunk and a small portmanteau on the roof of the vehicle. The little girl had to take her drive alone, and the rather ancient horse which drew the old carriage climbed up and down the steep roads in a most leisurely fashion. It was a cold winter’s day, and by the time Thomas had executed some commissions in Sefton, and had reached the gates of the avenue which led to Lavender House, it was very nearly dark. Hester trembled at the darkness, and when the gates were shut behind them by a rosy-faced urchin of ten, she once more began to feel the cruel and desolate idea that she was going to prison.
They drove slowly down a long and winding avenue, and, although Hester could not see, she knew they must be passing under trees, for several times their branches made a noise against the roof of the carriage. At last they came to a standstill. The old servant scrambled slowly down from his seat on the box, and, opening the carriage-door, held out his hand to help the little stranger to alight.
“Come now, missy,” he said in cheering tones, “come out, and you’ll be warm and snug in a minute. Dear, dear! I expect you’re nearly froze up, poor little miss, and it is a most bitter cold night.”
He rang a bell which hung by the entrance of a deep porch, and the next moment the wide hall door was flung open by a neat maid-servant, and Hester stepped within.
“She’s come,” exclaimed several voices in different keys, and proceeding apparently from different quarters. Hester looked around her in a half-startled way, but she could see no one, except the maid, who smiled at her and said—
“Welcome to Lavender House, miss. If you’ll step into the porter’s room for one moment, there is a good fire there, and I’ll acquaint Miss Danesbury that you have arrived.”
The little room in question was at the right-hand side of a very wide and cheerful hall, which was decorated in pale tints of green, and had a handsome encaustic-tiled floor. A blazing fire and two lamps made the hall look cheerful, but Hester was very glad to take refuge from the unknown voices in the porter’s small room. She found herself quite trembling with shyness, and cold, and an indescribable longing to get back to Nan; and as she waited for Miss Danesbury and wondered fearfully who or what Miss Danesbury was, she scarcely derived any comfort from the blazing fire near which she stood.
“Rather tall for her age, but I fear, I greatly fear, a little sulky,” said a voice behind her; and when she turned round in an agony of trepidation and terror, she suddenly found herself face to face with a tall, kind-looking, middle-aged lad and also with a bright gipsy-looking girl.
“Annie Forest, how very naughty of you to hide behind the door! You are guilty of disobedience in coming into the room without leave. I must report you, my dear; yes, I really must. You lose two good conduct marks for this, and will probably have thirty lines in addition to your usual quantity of French poetry.”