CHAPTER XVII.
ANNETTE DECLINES TO PLAY TENNIS.
Averil was rather quiet and subdued the next day or two, but as usual she battled bravely with her depression, and tried not to damp the enjoyment of her two young companions.
The new work-room was finished, and looked very comfortable; and Fairy Order, as Lottie still called her, was quite in her element. There was plenty of time now for the music lessons and practicing. Lottie was learning to chatter in French, and Annette found her a most intelligent pupil. The girls sat together, walked together, or drove out with Averil; no one interfered with them. When Lottie had letters to write, or her aunt or cousins wanted her, Annette went in search of Averil, or sat in the garden with her book. Maud and Georgina made no attempt to admit her into their companionship; they still treated her with coldness, as though they regarded her as an interloper. In the evenings when Averil read to herself, she and Lottie escaped into the garden, or whispered together over their work. Georgina once asked them contemptuously what they could find to talk about; she sneered slightly as she spoke. When friends were not present there were often lapses of silence. Rodney would complain of the dullness, and go out in search of amusement.
"I wish we could go out too," Georgina would say. "I think no family of old maids could be more deadly dull. Mamma goes to sleep, and Averil reads, and Maud writes letters."
"I wish you would be quiet and let me finish my notes," Maud would say, pettishly—she seemed always irritable now; and then Georgina would subside into moody silence. If any one came in there was an instantaneous change; for example, if Captain Beverley dropped in for a moment to fetch Rodney, Maud's eyes would brighten, her prettiest songs would be sung; Mrs. Willmot would be broad awake and smiling; only Averil's grave little face did not relax, her greeting never became warmer.
The day at Grey-Mount was a great success. As Averil looked at the girls' bright faces as they took their places in the train the cloud seemed to lift off her own spirits; it was delightful to think that for twenty-four hours her worries would be in the background. Kind greetings, approving smiles, hearty sympathy, were all awaiting her; no dissatisfied looks, no struggling wills would mar her enjoyment. Averil's brow grew calm and clear as a little child's as the prospect widened, and when they reached Chislehurst she was talking as merrily as her companions.
"There is Louie!" exclaimed Lottie, as the train slackened speed, and a tall, pleasant-looking girl gave her an answering nod and smile. She had a strong resemblance to her brother Frank, and, like him, had no claims to beauty; but her frank, open countenance, attracted Annette.
"She is a Harland, so of course she is nice," she said to herself, with illogical reasoning.