“Oh, will you excuse me?” she said in her pretty, refined voice. “Our special friends the Tristrams, the rector’s daughters, and a friend of theirs, a Miss Howland, are coming up the avenue.”
“Certainly, my dear,” said Lady Lysle; and Cicely and Merry were off down the avenue like arrows from the bow to meet their friends.
Lady Lysle watched the two girls, and then turned to speak to Mrs. Cardew.
“What name was that I heard Cicely say?” was her remark. “Of course I know the Tristrams, but who was the girl who was with them?”
“A special friend of theirs, a Miss Howland. She has been their school companion abroad. She is staying with them at the rectory. Why, what is the matter, Lady Lysle? Do you know anything about her?”
“I don’t know her,” said Lady Lysle, “but I know a little bit about her mother. I should not have supposed the Tristram girls and Miss Howland were in the same set.”
“Why, what is wrong?” said Mrs. Cardew, who was exceedingly particular as regarded the people whom her daughters knew.
“Oh, nothing, nothing,” said Lady Lysle. “I happen not particularly to like Mrs. Howland; but doubtless I am prejudiced.”
She turned to talk to a neighbor, and by this time the five girls had met. There was an eager interchange of greetings, and then Maggie found herself walking up the avenue by Merry’s side, while Cicely found a place between the two Tristram girls.
“I am so glad you’ve come!” said Merry in her gentle, polite voice.