“How lovely—oh, how lovely! I do think it is too funny! I must call you Berengaria and Lucille. Do you mind? Such wonderful names! How did you manage to hit on them? I used to imagine, too; and what do you think was my dream? Instead of being a lonely only girl, I was a large family of grown-up sisters, and schoolboys coming home for the holidays, and little dots in the nursery—all in my own little self. You can’t imagine how dull it is to be an only girl!”
“No,” asserted Ruth doubtfully. “But rather nice to get all the petting and consideration! When you are the eldest of seven children, you are always expected to set an example, and it is very wearing at times. How delightful that you amused yourself ‘pretending,’ just as we did! That makes quite a bond of union between us!”
“Yes, indeed! But lucky creatures, your dream seems about to come true, while I am as lonely as ever. Your position at the Court is so romantic! You don’t mind my speaking about it, do you, because everyone knows, and is so interested in the result? Of course, one of you must be the lucky heir; and then we shall be neighbours, and see each other constantly. Which is it to be—Berengaria, or Lucille?”
“Mollie!” said Ruth.
“Ruth!” said Mollie. “Don’t believe her, Lady Margot. She is a wee bit out of favour the last few days, but I haven’t a chance beside her. She has the Farrell eyebrows, you see, and the Farrell frown, and poise of the head. When she is sitting in the dining-room, you could tell at once that she was a descendant of the oil-paintings. I often see Uncle Bernard looking from her to them, and he is far more amiable to her than to any of us, as a rule. We all agree that she is far and away the chief favourite.”
“Really! You discuss it among yourselves, and come to the same conclusions. How interesting!” said Lady Margot. “And the two men—your cousins—do they have no chance at all, poor things?” she asked lightly.
“They are not our cousins. They belong to different sides of the house, and we had never met till we came down here. Mr Melland refuses to be considered as a ‘candidate,’ and is staying only till his ankle is better. Mr Druce,”—Ruth hesitated uncertainly—“he is very nice to Uncle Bernard. They talk together a good deal. Sometimes I think his chance is very good.”
“He is certainly second favourite, so far; but we have more than two months still before us. I intend to cut them both out long before then. May I have one of those dear little scones? I am quite hungry after my drive!” Mollie said, as she in turn was presented with a dainty Worcester cup.
She watched Lady Margot with intent eyes, as she flitted about the room, placing little tables beside her guests for their greater convenience.
“Such a plain dress, and almost no jewellery, and her hair so simply done; but she looks a Lucille through and through, as I should never do, however fine I might be!” she said admiringly to herself.