Arrived at Park Lane, Pixie was much concerned to realise that Esmeralda’s much vaunted town residence was situated in this dull and narrow street! In vain Bridgie represented that the site was famous the world over; the little sister smiled quietly, and retained her own opinion. Bridgie as usual was making the best of the situation, but it was evident that Geoffrey’s riches had been much exaggerated, since this was the best he could do for his wife.
Poor Esmeralda! how disappointed she would be! What a good thing it was that they had brought the cold chicken to take off the first edge of disappointment! The house itself looked dark and gloomy, but there were a great many windows, and looking upwards Pixie espied a glimpse of a graceful head inside the line of one of the curtains. The travellers had indeed arrived, and in another moment the three sisters would be reunited, after four months’ separation.
“Ring again, darling! I can’t. This basket weighs me down!” said Bridgie, straining at the heavy handle, and then came surprise number one, for even as she spoke the door was flung back, and there appeared on the threshold one immaculate-looking man-servant, while farther down the hall stood two more in attitudes of attention. Three whole men to open one door! This was indeed a height of luxury to which the simple Irish mind had never soared; and where was the upset and confusion which had been expected, where the signs of recent arrival, where the smallest, most trifling evidence of confusion? The stately hall looked as if it had been undisturbed from immemorial ages, and the butler stared at the two girls and their basket with lofty disdain.
“Not at home, madam!”
Bridgie gasped, and looked blank dismay, but Pixie’s shrill protest could not be restrained.
“Not at home, when I saw her meself not a second ago looking out of the window?”
What would have happened it is difficult to say, but at that moment a voice sounded from afar, an eager voice repeating two names over and over again in tones of rapturous welcome. The man stepped aside, and Bridgie pressed the basket into his hands and raced along the hall, past the staring footmen to the bend of the stairs, where Esmeralda stood with arms stretched wide. Pixie was only a step aside, and Esmeralda escorted the two girls upstairs to her own room, talking breathlessly the while.
“Of course he said I was not at home! We arrived only an hour ago, so I can hardly be ready for visitors yet, but I saw the top of your hats from the nursery windows. You must come this very minute and see the boy. He is sweeter than ever. Everyone says he is a perfect beauty. Oh, me dears, how glad I am to see you! How sweet of you to come!”
“Of course we came; we thought perhaps we might be able to—help!” Bridgie said, looking around the gorgeous staircase with pensive regret. “We imagined you in such an upset, dear, with the carpets up, and the furniture covered with dust-sheets, and we thought we could dust, and put things straight as we used to do at Knock. You told us you were coming to open the house!”
“You didn’t expect I was going to work myself?” drawled Esmeralda, her impetuous manner changing suddenly to one of drawling affectation. “The servants have been here for a week, getting ready for our arrival. I have nothing to look after but a few frocks, and preparations for the fray next week! Did you expect to see me in an apron, with a duster over my head?”