Maggie was the soul of common-sense, however, and had no idea of wearing herself out thinking when she ought to be asleep. She accordingly soon turned from the window, and, getting into bed, dropped at once into healthy slumber.
When she awoke she felt remarkably light-hearted and cheerful. She got up early, and went with Andrew and Jack to see the adorable rabbits. So judicious was she on this occasion that both boys returned with her to breakfast in the highest good-humor.
“Mother, mother,” cried Jackdaw, “she loves Fanciful because he’s so beautiful.”
“And she adores Spot-ear because he’s so ugly,” said Peterkins.
The boys were exceedingly happy at being allowed to sit at breakfast one on each side of Maggie, who, when she did not speak to them—for she wanted to ingratiate herself with every one present, and not with them alone—contrived to pat their hands from time to time, and so keep them in a subdued state of exceeding good-humor.
Soon after breakfast she flew up to her room, put on that strangely becoming brown hat, which would have suited no other girl but herself, and went off to the Manor. She was met at the gate by Merry, who was anxiously waiting for her appearance.
“I am so sorry that Cicely isn’t here too,” said Merry; “but mother wanted Cicely to drive into Warwick with her 27 this morning. We’re going for a long motor-ride this afternoon. Don’t you love motors?”
“I have never been in one in my life,” replied Maggie.
“Oh dear!” said Merry; “then you shall come with us, although I know I can’t ask you to-day, but perhaps to-morrow we could manage.”
“I must not be too much away from Molly and Isabel, for it would not be kind—would it, Miss Cardew?”