"Father," calls the youngest Miss Litchfield, at the top of her far from low voice, "Did you know Sir Harry was here? My dear old Jet, how glad I will be to see that man."
"Not so loud, my girl," her father says from the fire where he is warming his hands. "I saw them last night, and invited them here to dinner this evening."
Aunt Adeline sniffs in an ominous manner. The Litchfield household have got to look upon that sniff of aunt Adeline's as boding no good to any new project of which it is doubtful if she will approve.
"Chickens are eighty cents a pair in the market, are you aware of it, Edward?" she asks tartly. Mr. Litchfield laughs.
"Well, my dear sister, we need not encourage their heinous demands."
"Lords and Sirs always expect every luxury, whether reasonable or otherwise, but as you have already asked them, I will have to do the best I can." Miss Adeline stalks from the room with a stern look of disapproval on her face. "Lords and Sirs indeed," she mutters. "Pray is it not all owing to Sir Barry that is making her dear Dolores go around looking so disconsolate?" She never for a moment takes into consideration that it is all Dolores own wilfulness that has made Sir Barry stay away so long.
A telegram arrives during the forenoon from uncle Dick Gray, announcing their coming that very afternoon. Dolores drives over to the station with her span of grey ponies, to meet and bring them home.
At dinner Lord Streathmere is presented to Sister Jean. Blondine, merry Blondine, his right hand neighbor at dinner, is nearly beside herself with merriment, as she watches the covert looks of admiration he casts across the table at the convent sister. Sister Jean has improved wonderfully since her arrival; gay and charming, she is almost the pretty Jantie of old. Poor Burpee, Lord Streathmere, is very badly hit; more so, perhaps, than he himself thinks. Dolores has a bad headache, and does not put in an appearance. Zoe is rather disappointed in Sir Barry, he seems so much changed since he left; not the same genial Jet who had petted and teased the youngest Miss Litchfield almost to distraction. He seemed to Zoe older and graver. After dinner Dolores comes down to the pretty drawing-room. She is looking most wonderfully sweet and gracious. Lord Streathmere is making great strides in his friendship with Sister Jean. He suddenly manifests a strong inclination about finding out the ways of life in a convent, and the wants of the poorer classes. To all this Sister Jean gives her patient attention and information.
Sir Barry is standing by the little Gipsy table, where Dolores is busy, daintily dealing out cream, and sugar, and coffee, in tiny shell-like cups. Dolores is very gracious this evening, so much so that Sir Barry is completely dazzled, and he can scarcely realize she can mean it all for his own benefit. She is wearing a dress this evening, the identical kind of a one she wore daring the last tender interview they had held together in far off sunny Nice, when Dolores had strayed down to the clear moonlit garden, and Sir Barry had almost declared himself. Dolores talks on, her soft, pleasant laugh filling up the spaces, when Sir Barry forgets to answer. A marble jar standing near is laden with mignonette and candy tuft, filling the rooms with their sweetness, making Sir Barry almost positive that the present is a dream, and that he is back in the pretty Italian garden, surrounded by the old-fashioned sweet-smelling flowers, walking by Dolores side, and listening to her gay, young voice.
"Now stupid, try, do, to keep still until I can undo this tangle you have made," says the youngest Miss Litchfield to Ned, who sits most patiently, adoringly, by Zoe's side, assisting, or detaining, the young lady to wind a skein of wool.