Thursday dawned bright and sunny under a cloudless sky.
The donkey-cart was outside Barnabas’ studio, and Pippa in a green dress and rough straw hat trimmed with daisies was feeding the animal with sugar. She had instantly christened him Pegasus, for though he was not a winged horse he was most unquestionably a magic steed.
Painting materials, a hamper of provisions, and the tent were packed into the cart. Pippa climbed in. Seated on the luggage she held the reins. Barnabas took hold of the bridle.
The men were in tweed knickerbocker suits and soft felt hats. Aurora was in a blue serge skirt, a white blouse, scarlet tie, and a blue sun-bonnet. She felt that the attire was suited to the part of a vagabond.
The other three artists of the courtyard were there watching them and offering advice. Paul, in his own happiness, felt in entire sympathy with their gaiety. Jasper and Michael felt somehow rather out of things.
“You ought to have had the cart meet you somewhere,” said Miss Mason. “You’ll be mobbed.”
“Not a bit of it,” said Barnabas cheerfully. “Dan’s size is protection enough for the lot of us. Good-bye, Aunt Olive. Ta-ta, you fellows. We’re off to study Nature. We’ll write our comments to you and post the letters at country post offices.”
Pippa flicked the whip and Pegasus walked gravely out of the courtyard. And the little faun in the garden played a gay tune on his pipe. The youthful spirits of the departing cavalcade appealed to him.
And Miss Mason went back to her studio, and for the first time since a year ago she felt a little lonely, for both Barnabas and Pippa had gone, and the Duchessa di Corleone was on her way to Italy with the portrait.
But the Fates had another thread in readiness, and she was not to feel lonely long.