“Hermione, Miss Donnithorne says that you and Miss Grant must put on your things now in order to return to Hedgerow House, otherwise you won’t be in time to receive the Professor.”
“The Professor?” I cried, jumping to my feet. Hermione laughed.
“You don’t mean to say that Miss Donnithorne hasn’t told you that your father is coming to have tea with you both?”
“I didn’t know anything about it. My father? But he never leaves London.”
“He has managed to leave it to-day. How queer that you shouldn’t know!”
“I had better get dressed; I shouldn’t like to be late,” I said.
I felt all of a flutter; I was nervous. Would he remark my dark-blue costume, and be angry with me for not wearing my brown skirt and red blouse?
“I’ll get dressed in a twinkling,” said Hermione. “Come along, Dumps; this is interesting.”
I wondered why she was so pleased, and why a sort of inward mirth began to consume her. Her eyes were twinkling all the time. I began to like her a little less and a little less; and yet, of course, she was a most charming and well-bred and nice-looking girl.
We went downstairs a few minutes later. We said good-bye to the Squire and his wife. The Squire said he hoped he would have the honour of entertaining Professor’s Grant’s daughter again, and the Squire’s lady made some remark which I presumed signified the same. Then we went away, driving as fast as ever we could in the direction of Hedgerow House.