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Page 16
"A nice opinion you will have of us, Miss Grahame," said Gerald,
as he stood still to be brushed. "We can stand straight, and walk,
too, like other people, though you may not believe it. But, you
see, Ferguson is so exasperating that he disturbs my equilibrium,
and then I have to disturb his, that we may continue in brotherly
companionship. He was just saying that the sun was no brighter
than the stars."
"No more it is, I suppose," said unconscious Hildegarde, "if you
are only near enough to one, or far enough from the other. Shall I
brush you, too, Mr. Ferg--I beg your pardon, Mr. Merryweather?"
"Oh," cried Gerald, dancing on one foot, "observe his blushes!
Observe the cabbage rose in all its purple pride! Isn't he lovely?
But you are not going to call us 'Mister,' in earnest, Miss
Grahame? You cannot have the heart! We are not accustomed to it,
and there is no knowing what effect it may have on my ardent
nature, or on Ferguson's flabby disposition." Ferguson extended a
long arm and shook his brother with calm energy, till his teeth
rattled together.
"Really, if you wouldn't, please," he said, in his quiet voice.
"Gerald is a lunatic, of course, and ought to be kept in a barrel
and fed through the bung-hole,--only my mother has scruples; but
we are 'just the boys,' and nobody ever does call us by handles,
you see. So if you wouldn't mind--"
"I shall be delighted!" said Hildegarde. "Bell and I have already
come to first names, and I am sure you boys are both too jolly to
be ceremonious with; so--Gerald, here we are at the house, and now
you really will have to stay right side up, with care."
They went together into the wide, bare hall, with its dark panels
hung with family portraits. Colonel Ferrers came to meet them,
erect and soldierly. He kissed Hildegarde's cheek, and greeted the
boys with a cordial shake of the hand.
"Glad to see you, young people!" he said, in the gruff voice which
held the very spirit of kindliness. "Glad to see you! Hildegarde,
many happy returns of the day to you, my dear child! Take my arm,
I beg!"
With Hildegarde on his arm, he led the way to the pretty drawing-
room, all white and gold and yellow satin, which was seldom used
in these days. Hildegarde had secretly hoped that they would sit
in the library, a delightful brown-leather sort of room, to which
she had grown well used; but she appreciated the compliment of
opening the drawing-room, and put on her best smile and look of
pleasure. Hugh Allen left his station by Mrs. Grahame's chair, and
came running with open arms to meet his Beloved. "Oh, glory of the
sunrise!" he exclaimed, as he threw his arms round her neck. "I
hope you will live fifty thousand years, and have strawberry jam
every single day of them!"
"Dear me!" cried Hildegarde. "I should beg for gooseberry once a
week, dear boy, if it were going on quite so long as that. Well,
my mother, you look like the Queen of Conspirators. What have you
and Hugh been talking about, that you both look so guilty?"
"Guilty, my dear Hildegarde?" said Mrs. Grahame, drawing herself
up. "The word is a singular one for a daughter to use to her
mother."
"Yes," said Hildegarde, "it is! and the thing is a singular one
for a mother to be toward her daughter. If ever I saw PLOT written
all over an expressive countenance,--but no more of this! Dear
Colonel Ferrers, how wonderful the roses are!"
Surely there never were so many roses as at Roseholme. The house
had been ransacked for jars, vases and bowls to hold them, and
every available surface was a mass of glowing blossoms. The girls
hovered from vase to vase, exclaiming with delight at each new
combination of beauties.
Now tea was announced, and this time Colonel Ferrers offered his
arm to Mrs. Merryweather, as the stranger and new-comer in the
neighbourhood; but the good lady protested against anyone but the
"birthday child" being taken in by the host, and the Colonel
yielded, it must be said with a very good grace.
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