It was in short a giddy round, and perhaps as good a cure for the sort of complaint from which our poor little girl was suffering as could have been devised.
It swept her off her feet—and in another sense swept her on to her feet.
She learned in curious ways a good deal.
Her shell was broken, and albeit the outer air was none of the purest, it served its purpose of blowing away the cobwebs that had so long encircled her outlook.
July, however, was passing, and soon, all too soon, fairy-land would vanish in a myriad of shattered sparklets, and then?
"I suppose we could not go to Cowes, Sue?" A very tempting invitation for the Cowes week had come, and there had been hints of further house-parties, and shooting-parties,—but of these latter Leo knew at once that she must not think. For Cowes, however, she would make a push. "It is so near, and we could go home as easily from there as from here,"—she murmured, wistfully. "And the Beverleys are very nice people, Sue."
"Oh, very; but—I don't know. I am afraid it would hardly do to suggest it. You see father has already been asked twice to let us stay on, and, dear Leo, he has been very good about it. Even Aunt Charlotte was surprised."
"It was Aunt Charlotte who did the trick though;" Leo wagged her head wisely. "Her sending him a card for her reception was a masterpiece. I almost wonder he didn't come up for it. Well, what about Cowes?"
"We will think it over, dear."
"I could go by myself, you know."