Lady Russell and Mr. Wilton walked slowly away together, and Lilias linked her hand affectionately through Ermengarde's arm.
"If there is a mystery, you will tell me about it presently," she said, "and I am not going to worry you now. I am so pleased to have you with me, Ermie, and there are a whole lot of things I am going to consult you about. But first of all, just come to my grotto. I want you to see in what a pretty pattern I have arranged the shells. Here we are; enter, fair and welcome guest! Oh, you must stoop your tall head a little, Ermie. Pride must bend when it enters a humble grotto like mine. Now then, look around you."
Ermengarde was feeling tired, hot, and thirsty. She had hoped to have been treated to nice grown-up tea in one of the drawing-rooms, and she felt just a little annoyed at being carried off at once to look at Lilias's stupid shells, or to behold the most charming grotto that was ever built. Ermengarde had no love for natural history, and fond as she was of Lilias, she felt just a wee bit cross.
But the moment she entered the grotto, the clouds fled like magic from her face. There were shells, of course, and sea-weeds, and a deep pool which contained sea-anemones; and into which a fountain continually dripped. But there was also tea on a charming little rustic table, and two rustic easy-chairs, and two egg-shell china cups and saucers, and a wee silver jug full of cream, and a dish of hot muffins, and a little basket full of grapes and peaches.
Lilias watched her friend's face.
"She wants her tea, poor Ermie does," she whispered to herself; "I know Maggie would have rushed at the shells first of all, and she'd have asked me a thousand questions about my sea-anemones and my fountain. Still, it's perfectly natural that Ermie should be thirsty and want her tea."
So the two little friends sat down, and had a very cozy and merry time together.