“Of course, dearest. Your father will see to that.”
Merry ran off to join her sister, and it is not too much to say that the whole of that glorious day was one of unalloyed pleasure. The Tristram girls were always delightful to the Cardew girls, but now that they were accompanied by Maggie Howland there was a great addition to their charm. Nevertheless, Maggie, with her purpose full in view, with her heart beating a little more quickly than usual when she heard that Mr. Cardew had gone to London, religiously avoided the subject of the life at Aylmer House. 47 She felt, somehow, that she had done her part. A great deal of her own future depended on these two girls coming to Aylmer House. She would make use of them—large use of them—at school. She was fond of Molly and Belle; but they were poor. Maggie herself was poor. She wanted to have rich friends. The Cardews were rich. By their means she would defeat her enemy, Aneta Lysle, and establish herself not only in the school but with regard to her future life. Maggie felt that she could make herself indispensable to Cicely and Merry. Oh yes, they would certainly go to Aylmer House in September. She need not worry herself any further, therefore, with regard to that matter. Little would they guess how much she had really done toward this desirable goal, and how fortunate circumstances had been in aiding her to the accomplishment of her desire. It was enough for Maggie that they were certainly going. She could, therefore, give herself up to enjoyment.
With Maggie Howland enjoyment meant a very different thing from what it does to the average English girl. She enjoyed herself with all her heart and soul, without one single reservation. To see her face at such moments was to behold pure sunshine; to hear her voice was to listen to the very essence of laughter and happiness. She had a marvelous power of telling stories, and when she was happy she told them with such verve that all people within earshot hung on her words. Then she could improvise, and dance, and take off almost any character; in short, she was the life of every party who admitted her within their circle.
Meanwhile a rather tired and rather sad man found himself, very much against his will, in London. He said to himself, “This wonderful Mrs. Ward will not be at Aylmer House now. These are the holidays, and she will be probably miles away. I will go to see her. Yes, but she won’t be in; that alone will clinch the matter. But first I will pay a visit to Lucia Lysle; she said she would be in London—she told my dear wife so. But Lucia is so erratic, it is most improbable that she either will be at home.”
Mr. Cardew drove first of all to Lady Lysle’s house in Hans Place. He asked if she was within, and, very much to his annoyance, the servant replied in the affirmative. He entered Lady Lysle’s drawing-room feeling rather silly. The first person he saw there was a tall, slim, lovely girl, whom he did not recognize at first, but who knew him and ran up to him and introduced herself as Aneta.
“Why, my dear,” he said, “how are you? How you have grown!”
“How is dear Cousin Sylvia, and how are Cicely and Merry?” asked Aneta. “Oh, I am very well indeed, Mr. Cardew; I don’t suppose anybody could be anything but well who was lucky enough to be at Aylmer House.”
“Mrs. Ward’s school?” said Mr. Cardew, feeling rather shy and almost self-conscious. 48
“Of course. Don’t you know Mrs. Ward, Mr. Cardew?”
“No, my dear, I don’t.”