“In our own park, of course.”
“And who are to be invited, dear uncle?”
“Everybody for ten miles round; and farther, if they choose to come. I don’t mind an ox or two extra for the occasion.”
“Occasion! what, uncle? It isn’t Christmas!—it isn’t Whitsuntide!—nor yet May-day!”
“Can you think of nothing except holidays? What say you to a birthday?”
“Oh! true; Walter’s will be next week. But, papa, is brother coming home?”
“That’s it. He is to arrive on the eve of his birthday. Poor lad! he’s been a long while from us; not long enough, I hope, to get spoiled in a dangerous school. Well, we must give him a welcome worthy of old Bucks. And now, girls! go to work; and see that you do your share in making preparation for our guests.”
With this parting injunction, the knight turned back into the house, leaving his niece and daughter to discuss the pleasant subject he had placed before them.
For some seconds, after he was gone, there was no exchange of speech between the cousins. Each was absorbed in her own thoughts.
“Oh! ’twill be a happy day: for Walter will be here!” was the secret reflection of Lora.