With Miss Carr arrived a cart-load of boxes containing bride and bridesmaids’ dresses, feathers and furbelows of all descriptions, and a number of presents from acquaintances in London.
The other girls were full of excitement over the opening of these treasures, but Lettice herself was silent and indifferent, and hardly troubled herself to look at the beautiful gifts which were showered upon her. She excused herself on the plea of a chronic head-ache, and lay half the day on a sofa in the schoolroom, while Miss Briggs fed her with beef-tea, and fussed over her in kindly, motherly fashion. Everyone petted her and treated her with consideration, but no one said a word to suggest that she was unhappy in the thought of the coming marriage. It was too late for that; she had determined to keep to her engagement, and it was only natural to account for her indisposition on the ground of excitement and fatigue. Circumstances combined, moreover, to keep Lettice a good deal apart from the others during these last busy days. Miss Carr’s maid was employed making the alterations which were requisite in the dresses from London, so that Lettice was continually being summoned to the sewing-room, and when she was not being “tried on” she had many letters to write acknowledging the gifts which arrived in such numbers.
Hilary was too busy to have any time for confidential talks, and when Norah had a moment’s leisure, her thoughts were far away from Westmoreland, journeying over foreign lands with a certain tall young Englishman with grey eyes and a crop of close-cut, curly hair. Even Lettice herself was apt to be forgotten in this all-absorbing occupation!
The Newcome contingent, and those London friends who were to accompany them, were to come down on the day before the wedding, and to put up at an hotel in Windermere, and every day brought with it a host of preparations which kept the little mistress of the house busy from morning until night.
Hilary showed to advantage under these circumstances. Always brisk, alert and smiling, never worried or unduly anxious, she shared a good deal of Rex’s boasted “gift of management,” and contrived to keep the house comfortable for the visitors, despite the general disarrangement, and the everlasting arrival of packing-chests and boxes. Hampers of flowers, hampers of fruit, crates of china and glass, rolls of red baize, boxes containing wedding-cake, confectionery, dresses, presents—in they came, one after another, in an unending stream, until to get across from the front door into the dining-room was like running the blockade, and wisps of straw were scattered all over the house. Norah and Hilary swathed themselves in big white aprons and unpacked from morning till night: a more interesting task than it sounds, for the boxes were full of pleasant surprises, and Mr Rayner, Raymond, and their father played the part of “dress circle,” and kept everyone laughing with their merry sallies. It was a cheery, bustling time, for everyone was in good spirits and prepared to enjoy the happy-go-lucky, picnic life. Lunch and dinner were movable feasts, held either in dining- or morning-room, or in the garden itself, as proved most convenient, and when afternoon tea was served three days before the wedding, the cups were scattered about on the top of packing-chests in the hall, the cake basket hung on the hat rail, and the teapot was thrust out of reach of harm beneath the oak bench. Lettice was lying down upstairs, but all the rest of the household were gathered together, the visitors provided with chairs in honour of their position, Norah seated on the stairs, Raymond straddle-leg over the banister, Mr Bertrand and Geraldine lowly on buffets, while Hilary was perched on the top of a huge packing chest, enveloped in a pink “pinafore,” and looking all the prettier because her brown hair was ruffled a little out of its usual immaculate order.
“I wish we could have tea like this every day!” cried the Mouse, drawing a long breath of enjoyment. “May we have it like this every day, father, instead of properly in the drawing-room?”
“Ah, Mouse, I see you are a Bohemian at heart, for all your quiet ways! I agree with you, my dear, that it would be quite delightful, but the difficulty is that we could not persuade people to shower presents and hampers upon us in the ordinary course of events. It takes a wedding, or some celebration of the kind, to start such a flood of generosity.”
“Well, may we have tea like this when Hilary is married?” insisted Geraldine, with a gravity which caused a hearty laugh.
“Ask Hilary, my dear!” said Mr Bertrand mischievously; and Hilary tossed her head and said that one wedding was enough at the time—she had no strength to think of two.
“Indeed, my dear, I wonder you are not laid up as it is,” said Miss Carr kindly. “You are on your feet from morning till night, and everyone comes to you for directions; I am afraid you will break down when the excitement is over. There is generally a collapse on these occasions. Have you any idea what you are all going to do after the young couple have departed?”