By the River.
Pixie went off in great spirits to join the Wallaces at the riverside cottage which they had rented for the remainder of the summer. The heat in town was already growing oppressive, and it was delightful to think of being in the country again and running free over the dear green fields. Esmeralda had presented her with quite a trousseau of summer dresses, with a selection of hair-ribbons to match, at least an inch wider than any which she had previously possessed, and she piled up her pompadour higher than ever, and pulled out the bows to their farthest extent in her anxiety to do justice to the occasion, and the importance of her own position as the instructor of youth.
A pony-cart was at the station to meet her, with Viva and Inda clinging together on the front seat, ready to pour breathless confidences into her ear the moment she appeared. They spoke with a curious mingling of tongues, but had apparently no difficulty in understanding her when she replied in rapid, colloquial French, so that it was evident that the hours of play had not been wasted, but had the effect of successful study.
“Mamzelle! Mamzelle Paddy, we have boats in our house!” cried Viva eagerly. “Three boats with cushions, and a punt, and one with a funnel in the miggle. And Cousin Jim takes us out with the ’nother gentleman, and we splash with our hands, and the lady was cross because of her sash, and she dried it in the sun. And there’s tea in the garden, and a big steamer that makes waves, and muzzer says if we are very good you will play with us at being gipsies under the wheel-barrow.”
“An’ we got in a box, and the water went up, an’ up, an’ up, an’ then it went down, an’ down, an’ down, an’ then we came home,” contributed fat little Inda in her deep, gurgling voice, and Pixie turned from one to the other and cried, “Vraiment!” “Sans doute!” “Bravo!” and beamed in delighted expectation.
The house-party were assembled on the lawn drinking tea when the pony-carriage turned in at the gate, and Pixie looked round with sparkling eyes, quite dazzled by the beauty of the scene. The narrow road, running at the back of the houses, had been dull and uninteresting, but before many yards of the drive had been traversed, there came a view over the wide sunlit river, and beyond it green meadows stretching away as far as the eye could reach.
The house was not a cottage after all, but quite a large, imposing-looking house, and the lawn sloping to the river bank was smooth and soft as velvet. Baskets of flowers hung from the verandah; picturesque stumps of trees were hollowed out to receive pots of geraniums; a red and white awning shaded the tea-table; and the wicker chairs were plentifully supplied with scarlet cushions. It was Pixie’s first peep at the summer glories of the river, and she felt as if she had stepped into fairyland itself.
The little girls seized her hands and dragged her in triumph across the lawn, and Mrs Wallace looked round, and said smilingly to her friends—
“Here’s my French governess—the latest addition to the household. What do you think of my choice?”
“Governess! That girl! She looks a child herself. Edith, what nonsense are you talking?”