“What are you thinking of, Sylvia?” she asked. “Something nice?”
“Very nice!” said Sylvia, smiling. She had just recalled a quotation which seemed as though it might have been written to describe Bridgie O’Shaughnessy—
“Sweet souls without reproach or blot,
Who do God’s will and know it not!”
Chapter Twenty.
A Luncheon Basket.
Esmeralda announced her arrival in town on the first of May, a week in advance of her house-party, so that she might have leisure to visit her brothers and sisters, and put the final touches to her own preparations. She did not mention the hour of her arrival, but this was easily calculated, and at home in Rutland Road, Bridgie and Pixie held eager committee meetings as to the best method of welcome. It was decided not to go to the station, as Esmeralda did not appreciate being taken unawares, and would of a certainty be annoyed if her son and heir were beheld at a disadvantage.
“Babies are bound to be cross at the end of a journey, and his little frock would be soiled and crumpled, and she will want him to look his very, very best. No! we will go straight to Park Lane,” Bridgie decided, “and arrive an hour after they are due, so that they will have had time to get tidy. The house will be upset, of course, for it has been closed for so long, and we may be able to help. I shall never forget the day we came here—all the furniture piled in the middle of the rooms, and nowhere to sit down, and nothing to eat, and my poor back aching as if ’twere broken. That’s another thing I was thinking about. We’ll take lunch with us all ready prepared—a cold chicken, I think, and some fruit for dessert, and enjoy it together, we three girls, if we have to sit on the floor to eat it. How lovely it will be to meet again! It seems too good to be true.”
Pixie was delighted at the idea of the luncheon basket, and when the eventful day arrived one little extra after another was added to the original list, until the weight became quite formidable, but Bridgie declared that an omnibus ran to within but a short distance of their destination, and the two girls set off in high spirits, each holding a handle of the basket, and swinging it gaily to and fro. Curious glances were cast towards it en route, whereat Pixie beamed with pride. It looked so like a picnic basket, with the top bulging from the sides, allowing glimpses to be seen of the fruit bags, and the white linen serviette enfolding the chicken; she was convinced that the beholders were consumed with envy and curiosity!