When, by and by, Mrs. Carlyle passed downstairs to go out through the garden to the carriage Mr. Vivian had sent to drive her to the Mill House, she found the banisters festooned with rings of coloured paper, and the garden ablaze with paper roses and flags. From every tree fluttered a flag, more or less inappropriate, and on every bush and plant, poppy and rose, sage and phlox, laurel and sweet briar, blossomed roses of a size and colour to make a florist's heart rejoice—had they been real. Suspended across the gateway hung an old white sheet, with 'Many happy returns,' in red letters, sewn on crookedly.
Smiles and tears fought for mastery in her heart. "It is all meant for you, mummy," explained Debby, eagerly. "You must pretend what is on the Coronation flag is 'God save our Mother,' and on the Sunday School ones 'God bless our Mother.' Can you pretend like that, mummy? I can."
"Yes, darling, for it is no pretence. He has saved me, and blessed me," she said softly.
The carriage was to drive slowly through the village that the heroine of the day might see it all again, and note all the changes which had taken place during her long seclusion. Joan was to go with her to share the novelty of a drive. But the other four and their father formed a guard of honour, and marched beside them, or behind. Mary was to share in the outing too. As soon as she had tidied herself and put things straight, she was to hand the care of the house over to Job Toms, and go to the Mill House as early as she could, which was only a few minutes later than her mistress.
The slow drive turned into a veritable triumphal progress. Everyone rejoiced to see the Vicar's wife amongst them again, every heart in the village shared in the joy of the Vicar and his family. Miss Babbs was out at her shop door, waving her best lace handkerchief. The old sexton's wife ran into the road in order to present a bunch of the best flowers in her garden. All stood out at their doors with welcoming smiles and glad greetings.
By the time they reached the Mill House, Mrs. Carlyle was almost borne down with the weight of love and tenderness which had been poured out upon her—but, oh! so happy, so glad, so grateful.
At the Mill House, where all were out awaiting her. Mrs. Vivian soon carried her off to her own little room. "You are to rest here quite alone," she said firmly. "I shall not allow anyone to see you for half an hour—unless, perhaps, it is your husband or Audrey."
Mrs. Carlyle looked up at her with grateful eyes, and a brave smile on her pale, happy face. "You understand," she said gently. "I would like to be quite alone just for a little. Oh, I feel so—unworthy, and so—so rich beyond my deserts. I must ask for help to—to try to merit some of all I have."
Downstairs in the long low dining-room, the table was prepared for tea. Daphne had decorated room and table with autumn leaves, and ferns, and flowers. In the centre stood a handsome birthday cake of Irene's making and decorating, and surrounding it was dish after dish of tartlets, and cakes, and other things such as made the children gaze at the clock anxiously, fully assured that it had stopped.
"It must be five o'clock, or six," sighed Tom. "I am sure it is three or four hours since dinner-time."