"Come in, Miss Clayton; the waggonette isn't here yet, and it is a bit hot in the sun. Mr. Logan passed just now on his way to the quarry and he would have it his big umbrella did not shelter him at all."
"It is sure to be full of holes," returned Cathy carelessly, as she led the way into the inn. Queenie had a glimpse as she passed of a long, low-ceiled room with cross-beams and a deep window, and then of the great stone kitchen with its long settle and wide open fireplace. As they followed the landlady up the broad staircase Emmie clapped her hands delightfully.
"What a beautiful room! I never saw a glass cupboard of china before like that; and there are two tables and rocking-chairs; and oh, dear! what a hard, slippery sofa, and what a funny, cracked piano; and, I do declare, there are at least four or five large silver tea-pots, and a great stand of wax flowers."
"This is where they have the agricultural dinners and do all the speechifying. Sit down, Queenie, do; how I wish that long laddie of ours would drive up; but it is just like Ted, to be late for everything."
"I do not mind waiting," returned her friend quietly. She was quite as much excited as Cathy and Emmie, though she did not show it as they did. She stood looking out of the small-paned window, through the screen of red geraniums, at the sunny little garden across the road.
Two buxom lasses were carrying piles of white, freshly-dried linen to the inn; the patient hen was still clucking devotedly at the heels of her foster-family; some long-necked geese waddled aimlessly across the road; a sweet odor of fresh hay came from the granary in front; the trampling of hoofs and the loud cool swishes of water, mingled with the hissing of a red-headed ostler, sounded from the stable-yard. Queenie looked out dreamily, until the noise of advancing wheels broke on her ear.
Cathy started up.
"There is Ted! look at him brandishing his whip and making up for lost time by driving furiously. What a shame to treat poor old Minnie so! she is quite covered with foam. Ted, you tiresome fellow, what do you mean by keeping my friends waiting?"
"I beg your friends' pardon; am I late? Nonsense, Cath, you are such a one to exaggerate; come, jump in. Where's the luggage? Give a hand, you fellows there, and stow in the traps; the mare's fidgetty, and won't stand."
"No wonder, when you have fretted her to a fever; you would catch it from Garth if he saw her. Now then, Ted, where are your manners? this is Miss Marriott and her little sister Emmie."