“I told you so,” cried Clem, in a hoarse whisper to her nearest neighbors; “she always spoils everybody's fun,” as Miss Anstice, at the host's suggestion, his sister being rendered incapable of action at this sudden emergency, was put to rest in one of the pretty chintz-covered rooms above, till such time as she could recover herself enough to join them below.
“I couldn't help it, sister,” she said. “I've been so worried about that vase. You don't know, because you are always so calm; and then to see it standing there—it quite took away my breath.”
Oh, the delights of the rose-garden! in which every variety of the old-fashioned rose seemed to have had a place lovingly assigned to it. Sweetbrier clambered over the walls of the gardener's cottage, the stables, and charming summer-houses, into which the girls ran with delight. For Mr. Clemcy had said they were to go everywhere and enjoy everything without restraint.
“He's a dear,” exclaimed Lucy Bennett, “only I'm mortally afraid of him.”
“Well, I'm not,” proclaimed Alexia.
The idea of Alexia being in any state that would suggest fear, being so funny, the girls burst out laughing.
“Well, we sha'n't any of us feel like laughing much in a little while,” said Clem dolefully.
“What is the matter?” cried a dozen voices.
“Matter enough,” replied Clem. “I've said so before, and now I know it's coming. Just look at that.”
She pushed aside the swaying branches of the sweetbrier, and pointed tragically. “I don't see anything,” said one or two of the girls.