“My dear Mil! and allow Father to go by himself!” Bertha waxed quite mischievous in the relief of the moment. “You don’t know what an absent-minded creature he is! If Mother were not there to look after him, he would go to meet the Archbishop without a hat on his head, or stand gloating over an old bookstall in the street, until he forgot all about his appointment. Mother has to be very careful not to let him out of her sight. She writes down all that he wants to say on a piece of paper, and leads him up to the very door of the room. Then she says: ‘Now, Austin, do you know whom you are going to see?’ Father stares blankly, and says: ‘Er—er—I really er—.’ And then she says very slowly and distinctly: ‘You—are—going—to—see—the—Archbishop! You—want—to—see—him—very—badly—indeed. Here is a list of the things you want to say!’ Then she thrusts the paper into his hands, pushes him inside the door, and shuts it firmly behind him. It’s quite true! I know, because I have been with them.”
“Eh? eh? eh? What this! what’s all this?” The Dean pushed his chair from the table, and stared at his daughter with a comical expression of amused embarrassment upon his face. “Upon my word, Sarah, I believe you are right! The children are growing up—they are growing up! I—I never heard such an accusation in my life! Absent-minded! Am I indeed, Miss Bertha? I see a great deal more than you imagine, young lady!”
His lips were twitching, his grave eyes twinkling with amusement. He was a Dean and a scholar whose fame was world-wide; who wrote books the very names of which Mildred was unable to understand, but he had shown himself so considerate of the young people’s enjoyment, he looked, at the moment, so kindly and mischievous that a sudden wave of affection swelled within the girl’s heart. Up she leapt, and bounding across the room to his side, threw her long arms round his neck, and kissed him rapturously upon the lips. It was an extraordinary liberty to take, but what followed was more extraordinary still, for the Dean returned the salute with the utmost alacrity, and keeping one arm round Mildred’s waist, twirled off with her towards the door in something that was perilously,—perilously like a polka!
When he reached the doorway, and saw the old butler coming along the passage, he shook himself free in a moment, and shuffled off to the study, looking as sober as if he had never indulged in a game of romps in his life; but when Mildred turned back into the room the twins were clapping their hands in delight, Lady Sarah struggling in vain to restrain a smile, while Mrs Faucit was laughing softly to herself, with a glimmer of tears in her eyes.
There are two sorts of tears, however, and these of the Dean’s wife were certainly not those of sorrow. Perhaps she was thinking of the days when she was a girl herself, and of a certain lanky schoolboy who spent the vacations with her brothers, and who behaved in such harum-scarum fashion that an onlooker would have been ready to prophesy anything of him, rather than that he should have developed into a sober dignitary of the church!
But a day of busy preparation lay before Mrs Faucit. She had no time to waste in day-dreams, so excusing herself to Lady Sarah, she carried the girls upstairs to her room, where she proceeded to read them a gentle lecture on their behaviour for the next few days.
“Now do, dears, try to help me while I am away! I shall be miserable if I feel that things are not going on well at home, and it all depends upon you. Make up your minds that you will not allow little things to annoy you, and set yourselves to be cheerful and forbearing. The rest will follow as a matter of course. Bertha, I leave the children to you—see that they are happy. If any accident or sudden illness should happen, telegraph at once for me. Lois, you must take my place in the house. Look after the flowers, and see that a fire is lit in the small drawing-room if the weather is at all chilly. Mildred, I have a task for you too. I wonder if you can guess what it is? I am going to leave Lady Sarah in your care! Yes, really, dear—I mean it! I ask you as a favour to look upon her as your special charge while I am away—to see that she is comfortable and has all she wants. She is very old, Mildred, and in spite of her sharp manner, she appreciates kindness. Now remember, dear, I trust you!”
“Oh, dear!” groaned Mildred; “I wish you wouldn’t! I don’t like it a bit. I’d much sooner arrange the flowers—mayn’t I arrange the flowers, Mrs Faucit, please, and let Lois look after Lady Sarah? You said yourself I had quite a gift for arranging flowers!” Then, as Mrs Faucit only smiled and shook her head, she went off into fresh lamentations. “It’s perfectly miserable that you have to go away at all. Things do happen so nastily in this world! Just as I was going home Robbie fell ill, and now the very day before the picnic this letter arrives! It’s horrid. Cécile said you were going away, but I never believed you would!”
Mrs Faucit looked up sharply.
“Cécile said!” she repeated. “Cécile! What did she know about it, pray? The date of the interview was so uncertain that I have never spoken of it in the house. I hoped that, as it had been so often deferred, it might not come off until the end of the holidays. What did Cécile say?”