"I don't mind if I do," said Mildred. "I have no very special engagements for this evening, and even if I had I should be disposed to break them. It is not often one gets the chance of spending an hour in a nest with two turtle-doves."
"Come, come," said Hilda, "that sounds as if you were laughing at us. Now you shall see the house, and then we'll have tea together, and you must tell me all about the old place."
The turtle-doves' nest was a very minute abode. There was only one story, and the bed-rooms in consequence were small and few.
"Aren't we delightfully economical?" said Hilda, throwing open the door of her own room. "Is not this wee chamber the perfection of snugness? and this is Jasper's dressing room, and here is such a dear little bath-room; and this is the spare-room (we have not furnished it yet, but Jasper says we can't afford to have many visitors, so I'm not making any special haste). And this is our servants'-room; I did not think when we lived at Little Staunton that two servants could fit into such a tiny closet, but these London girls seem quite to like it. Now, Mildred, come downstairs. You have looked over this thimbleful of a house, and I hope it has pleased you. Come downstairs and let us talk. I am starving for news."
"Well, my dear, begin catechising to your heart's content," said Mildred. She threw herself back into the easiest of the easy-chairs as she spoke, and toasted her feet before Hilda's cheerful fire. "What do you want to know first, Mrs. Quentyns?"
"How long is it since you left home—when did you see them all?"
"I was at home a fortnight ago, and I spent the greater part of one afternoon at the Rectory."
"Oh, did you? Is it awfully changed?"
"No; the house is in statu quo. It looks just as handsome and stately and unconcerned as of old. Aunt Marjorie says it is full of dust, but I did not notice any. Aunt Marjorie has got quite a new wrinkle between her brows, and she complains a great deal of the young cook, but my private opinion is that that unfortunate cook is your aunt's salvation, for she gives her something else to think of besides the one perpetual grievance."
"Oh, yes, yes," said Hilda, a little impatiently, "poor dear Aunt Maggie; and what about the others? How is my father?"