At that moment there was a clatter of horsehoofs outside the door, and Ray exclaimed—
“Why, here is Cyril, with Sheila and Effie in the new phaeton! Don’t they cut a fine figure! What a pretty girl Sheila is! But she puts Effie altogether in the shade, don’t you think? If Aunt Cossart finds that out, she won’t be best pleased!”
The Stanhope phaeton was Effie’s last new fancy. It was discovered that Shamrock and the new cob would run together nicely in double harness; and Sheila, who had driven all her life, managed the pair with much skill.
Effie really preferred these drives in a carriage, recognised as her own, to the rides, where she was conscious of timidity and a lack of the ease and grace which distinguished Sheila’s horsemanship.
Cyril liked well enough to accompany his pretty cousins, as he called them; and Mrs. Cossart was better pleased when he was there, as well as the youthful tiger who always went with the carriage.
Raby and Ray had heard of this new turn-out, but had not seen it before. They ran to the window to look and admire; but in a few moments Effie and Sheila were in the room, Cyril bringing up the rear.
Sheila made a rush at Oscar first, but was quite ready to be affectionate to all. She was in gay, happy spirits, and brought with her an atmosphere of sunshine. Her sombre black was just lightened by ruffles of white at the throat and wrists; and the soft bloom upon her cheeks seemed set off by the darkness of her attire.
Somehow Effie seemed a quite secondary and insignificant figure when Sheila was present, though the best seat was given her, and her aunt asked with interest after her well-being. But the girls could not wait to hear Effie discourse upon herself and her symptoms, improved though they might be.
“Oh, Sheila, have you heard? Cyril, have you heard anything about the bazaar and fête? We are to have such a time of it! Sheila, you will have to help us! We shall all be as busy as bees!” and the girls plunged into a recital of the coming excitements, to which Sheila listened with all her ears.
“Oof! Won’t it be fun!” she cried, with her favourite little interjection which always made her cousins laugh. “I’m not a bit clever. I can’t sing or play or do anything like that; but I’ll help all I know. I shall be awfully pleased to!”