While Philip was shyly wondering whether even the pleasure of listening to the best of music would compensate for the trial of seeing strangers, his uncle came in to say that Aunt Delia had prepared their lunch, and was waiting for them in one of the little rustic summer-houses that studded the park.
The lunch was a marvel of daintiness, for Mrs. Hardy had insisted upon sending out the creams which had been frozen in preparation for the repast they were expected to take within doors, and a splendid display of pines and other fruit from the hot-houses. The whole party were in the best of spirits, and sufficiently hungry to do ample justice to Aunt Delia’s good things.
Suddenly, just as they were finishing, Mrs. Norton announced that she had lost her handkerchief and notebook. “I must have left them in the maid of honor’s room,” she declared, “or else in the music-room.”
“May I go and look for them?” said Philip, springing up.
“If you are quite sure you have eaten all the cream you want,” said his aunt. “But don’t try to find your way; get that servant with the cockney accent to show you again.”
Off ran Philip, glad to be of service; and the party, to give old Peter an opportunity to lunch, adjourned to an arbor in view, which was near enough to a little natural lake for the children to run to the margin with crumbs for the stately swans that were sailing about. The rector and Dr. Norton sat talking rather sadly of the days when old Lord Ashden was living; then they spoke of his son, and of the sad ending of his short and happy married life, and in the midst of their reminiscences they were surprised by the sudden appearance of the one they had been speaking of—Lord Ashden himself. He had returned a day before he expected, and had come out to look for them. His greeting to his old teacher and fellow-pupil was warm and cordial, and after paying his respects to the ladies he joined them in recalling incidents and exploits of his boyish days.
“And you have taken poor Philip’s child, I hear. It was brave and kind of you to acknowledge him,” said he, looking affectionately at the rector.
“It was a kindness we should have shown before,” said Dr. Norton.
“Where is the boy? Does he inherit his father’s genius and beauty?”
“Yes,” said Aunt Delia, turning her sweet, benevolent face upon the speaker, “our little Philip seems to have taken every pleasant trait of his father’s, and a sweeter child I never saw.”