But now six o’clock sounded from the stable-clock in the yard. The toot-toot of the motor-car would be heard any moment as it dashed down the avenue. The two girls held each other’s hands as they appeared in the wide hall. Mrs. Wyndham was wearing her garden hat, she had a pair of scissors in her hand, and she cut off some withered roses from the rosebushes which grew at each side of the front door.
“They’re coming, mums! coming!” suddenly cried Molly. “Oh dear,” she continued, looking at Jessie, “my heart does beat!”
Jessie made no response. Her face suddenly turned white; she felt a violent inclination to turn and run away, but Molly caught her hand.
“Let’s welcome her, let’s be nice,” she said; and then the two sisters, hand in hand, came and stood at the top of the wide steps.
The motor drew up at the front door. Mr. Wyndham alighted and held out his hand to Peggy.
“Why on earth! ain’t we goin’ straight home?” was Peggy’s first remark.
“This is home, my dear.”
“Please, yer—yer laughin’ at me!”
“I am not, my child. Now come, these are your two little friends.—Molly, Jessie, come and assure Peggy Desmond that she is welcome to Preston Manor.”
“Oh me word!” exclaimed Peggy, as she tumbled rather than stepped out of the car, “I’m in a moil, an’ so I am!”