“Oh, mother dear!” said Philip, as he was going to bed that night, after having talked all the evening about his adventure and his new friend, “oh, mother dear, I wish to-morrow was going to be Thursday!”
And Mag smiled indulgently at her boy’s enthusiasm; but, alas! before the Thursday came, events had occurred which were destined to change quite entirely our little Philip’s history, and which, among other things, were to prevent his keeping his appointment with his new-found friend.
Chapter VII
A Mining Tragedy
WITHIN doors at the pretty Lowdown Rectory everything was even more brightly cheerful than usual for the contrast with the dismal storm outside. The breakfast table, with all its elegant appointments, was waiting in the oak dining-room, and at one of the windows in the same room was a group of young girls waiting, too, for their elders to be ready for breakfast. But they were not early risers at the rectory, and it was nearly ten o’clock before the family and their guests assembled around the table. Mr. Seldon, the old rector, and his wife lived quite alone, but once every year their quiet household was enlivened by a visit from their nephew and his wife and children.
The party had arrived only the day before, and the children were lamenting the storm that seemed likely to keep them in the house.
“I don’t think it’s much of a hardship to stay in such a lovely house as this,” said their mother, looking around the pleasant room and smiling at Aunt Delia, who laughed and nodded back from behind the urn.
“Oh, the house is jolly, and so is aunty,” said Marion, the oldest girl; “but I want to run out and see the ponies and talk with Jim, and take a look at the peacocks and feed the rabbits, and do a thousand things that the rain won’t let me.”
“A thousand is a large number,” said her father quietly.