CHAPTER III.
The week of the fête ended as it had begun, with sunshine and cloudless skies. It had been pronounced simply perfect by everybody, who upon leaving, congratulated their host and hostess upon the successful termination of their more than delightful fête. Among themselves opinions were exchanged regarding the master and mistress of “the Five Gables.” All agreed that Mrs. Willing had proved a charming hostess, with whom the most exacting could not find a grain of fault, but that Mr. Willing, although courtly in manner and very agreeable, was absurdly in love with his wife, so much so as to appear ridiculous in the eyes of his female visitors, who could have forgiven any other fault in their host more willingly, than this very unfashionable one of showing a preference for his own wife while other ladies were by.
Meanwhile affairs at “the Five Gables” resumed the even tenor of their way, which had been disturbed by the events of the past week. Andrew sunk into a chair as the last guest disappeared, and with a huge sigh of relief, took Mary upon his knee, who loudly wailed at seeing all her little playmates depart, and would not be comforted.
“Hush, hush, my darling,” said Andrew, kissing the great tears coursing down the cheeks of the child. “Papa will get you anything you wish, only cease this crying, you will make yourself ill.”
“But—but I—but I want Lilian to return,” sobbed Mary. “She’s a dear, and—and I love her, if she did stick pins into poor Dinah and call her a fright; and—and she has—she has such lovely long hair which I can pull when I get real mad at her.”
“Ah!” laughed Andrew, “there is method in this violent grief. You have not been so unladylike as to pull Miss Lilian’s hair, I hope?”
“Oh, heaps of times, papa. She liked it.”
“No doubt,” again laughed Andrew. “It must be an exquisite sensation. What did Miss Lilian do while you were pulling her hair?”
“She bit me, here and here.” Mary displayed two red marks, evidently made by four very sharp teeth.
“Upon my soul, chickie, your love-making was of a very tender nature. You pull her hair; she bites you, and still you lament her departure and wish her to return.”