"Well, dear old baby, I hope you have a queer notion at last—why, that would be no end of fuss and worry and trouble."
"No matter," he answered, "get help everywhere for everything. I told you first, because you can coax aunt Jean better than I can, don't 'go back on me' now, after I've confided my little plan to you. I expect a great deal of help from you."
"All right then," said Honor, striking one tightly clenched little hand down on the open palm of the other, "if it costs so much that we will all have to sell out and beg for New Year's, you need not blame me; I'll give you all the help you want, don't fear, but when the fun is over, I hope you won't have too much trouble to help yourself."
"Never mind the consequences," her guardian answered good-humoredly.
And so it was settled that there would be a grand ball at Mr. Rayne's house during Christmas week; the invitations were issued and busy preparations begun by all hands. The long drawing room and library were opened into one, and all their furniture conveyed into other apartments. The dining room and comfortable morning room, or family boudoir, were also opened into one large refreshment room. The little study under the balcony (down which Guy had climbed on the eventful night of his escapade) was fitted up for a tête-a-tête corner, with comfortable arm-chairs, bird cages and sweet smelling plants. Then there were decorations made of palm and flags, and millions of sundry other things to crowd into a little space of time.
Vivian saw little of Honor during these days of endless fuss and bustle, but he appeared satisfied to sit and chat quietly with Henry Rayne, who was unable to share in the general riot and confusion. There seemed to have sprung a strange intimacy between these two men, and this link was no other than Honor Edgeworth, in fact, she was so dear to the heart of her kind guardian that it warmed to anyone who showed an interest in her. One evening as Vivian and Mr. Rayne chatted together in the latter's study, Honor broke in upon them, holding between her dainty hands a steaming bowl of broth, which she commanded Mr. Rayne to "devour there and then." Obediently as a child, he supped the wholesome draught, and when he had drained the last spoonful, she kissed him hurriedly on the brow and bustled out again, smiling pleasantly, and telling her guardian he was "a real good boy."
When the door had closed upon her, Henry Rayne, turning to Vivian, said half sadly.
"She is the sweetest girl under the sun, I think my heart would break without her."
"Then I think you might sympathise more ardently with me," the young man answered, half doggedly, "I am nearly tired of waiting for that opportunity that never comes."
"Don't blame me, boy, before you know," was the serious retort, "I am trying my skill in your cause all this while. It is solely in your interest that I have planned this Christmas festivity. I can imagine no moment more propitious for the pleading of your cause, than one snatched from the confusion and excitement of such an hour, when the heart is made suggestive by strains of music and peals of laughter and sounds of gaiety and gladness everywhere."