Habit had partially inured, though it could never reconcile them, to the appearance of that little rustic table and white cloth in Lady Mary's favourite corner of the terrace; and though they would rather have gone without their tea altogether than partake of it there, they could behold her pouring it out for herself with comparative equanimity.
"I trust you are rested, dear Mary, after your terrible long climb in the woods this morning?"
"It has been very restful sitting here. I hope you had a pleasant drive, Isabella?" "No; it was too hot to be pleasant. We passed the rectory, and there was that idle doctor lolling in the canon's verandah—keeping the poor man from his haymaking. Has the second post come in? Any news of dear Peter?"
"None at all. You know he is not much of a correspondent, and his last letter said he would be back in a few days."
"For my part," said Lady Belstone, "I think Peter will come home the day he attains his majority, and not a moment before."
"He is hardly likely to stay in London through August and September," said Lady Mary, in rather displeased tones.
"Perhaps not in London; but there are other places besides London," said Miss Crewys, significantly. "We met Mrs. Hewel driving. She, poor thing, does not expect to see Sarah before Christmas, if then, from what she told us."
"She should not have let Lady Tintern adopt Sarah if she is to be for ever regretting it. It was her own doing," said Lady Mary.
"That is just what I told her," said Lady Belstone, triumphantly. "Though how she can be regretting such a daughter I cannot conjecture."
"Sarah is a saucy creature," said Miss Crewys. "The last time I saw her she made one of her senseless jokes at me."