THE PICNIC.
At breakfast next morning the children were in high spirits.
Augusta had awakened without any headache or any pricks of conscience.
“Let Uncle Peter come now,” she said to herself; “I won’t be afraid of
him.”
It happened to be a lovely morning, and the windows of the pretty
breakfast-room were wide open. The gardener was mowing the grass on
the tennis-lawn; the roses and other climbing flowers peeped in at the
lattice-window, and sweet summer scents filled the room.
“Poor, poor darling mother,” exclaimed Kitty as she seated herself at
the breakfast-tray; “how awfully fagged she must be! I do hope she
will soon come back.”
“We ought not to wish her to come back too soon,” said Nora, who
always happened to say just the right thing; “for if Mrs. Rashleigh is
very sad mother can comfort her.”
“Do see what you are doing!” cried Augusta at that moment. “You have
overfilled the teapot, and the tea is running out on the tray.”
Kitty laughed gleefully, and soon rectified her mistake, and the meal
progressed, accompanied by gay remarks of all sorts.
“Uncle Peter ought to be here by eleven o’clock,” said Nora. “The
train arrives at Fairlight at half-past ten; he is sure to come by
it.”
“What are we to do to-day?” asked Augusta. “Have we any plans, girls?
I think we might”——
“Oh! I know what you are going to say,” exclaimed Nora. “You want to
go to see those tiresome Aspray girls. But we can’t do anything until
Uncle Peter arrives. He will direct us, and we will do exactly what he
wishes.”
“Tiresome man!” muttered Augusta under her breath. Aloud she said:
“Pass me that brown scone, Nancy. And for goodness’ sake, child, don’t
open your eyes so wide whenever I speak to you!”
“I tell you what it is,” said Nora—“I have lacked courage to say it
for some days, but I will say it now—I do wish you would not scold
Nancy whenever you speak to her.”
“I don’t; I know I don’t,” said Augusta.—”Do I scold you whenever I
speak to you, Nancy, _mignon_?”
“_I_ don’t mind,” said Nancy; and before anything else could be
said the servant entered, bearing a note and also a telegram on a
salver. She handed the telegram to Nora, and the note to Augusta.
“The messenger is waiting, miss,” said the girl, speaking to Nora.
“What can it mean?” cried Nora; while Kitty craned her neck forward to
watch her sister as she read.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Nora; “how very provoking! It is from Uncle Pete.
He says he cannot arrive before dinner-time.—There is no answer,
thank you, Ellen.”
Ellen left the room, and Augusta now turned her attention to her note.
She tore it open, and the next moment she exclaimed in great
excitement:
“Oh, I say, this is jolly! Here is a line from Flora Aspray. They want
us to join them all for a big picnic. They are going to Fairlight
Towers—you know, that charming old ruin that we have always wanted to
see. They are starting at eleven o’clock, and they ask us to meet them
at the crossroads. They say they will have carriages enough to take us
all, and we shall be back soon after dusk. Isn’t it quite too
heavenly? Of course we will go—eh, Nora?—eh, Kitty?”
“I wish Uncle Peter were here,” said Kitty; “he would tell us whether
it were right or wrong.”
“What folly! If Aunt Jessie were at home she would certainly allow us
to go. Anyhow, I intend to go, whether you are silly or not.”
“I am sure it is not right, and I am sure mother would not like it,”
said Kitty again. “May I look at Flora’s letter, please, Gussie?”
Augusta handed the letter across to her cousin.
“There is no mention of Mrs. Aspray. Flora seems to have asked us quite
from herself,” said Kitty. “What do you say, Nora? What do you say,
Nancy?”
“I don’t want to go at all. To be frank with you, Gussie, I don’t care
for those girls,” said Nora.
“Well, you do like to spoil one’s pleasure whenever you can. I suppose
there is nothing for it but for Nancy and me to go alone.”
“Must I go with you?” cried Nancy.
“Yes—certainly,” replied Augusta.
“She sha’n’t go unless she wishes to,” here interposed Kitty. “Why do
you bully her? I think you are very unkind.”
“And I think you are all perfectly hateful!” said Augusta, who was red
with passion. “Well,” she added, “have it your own way. I shall go by
myself; I do not intend to miss the fun.”
She marched out of the room as she spoke, and the three other girls
glanced at one another.
“Perhaps I had better go with her,” said Nancy. “What do you think,
Kitty? It doesn’t matter so much for me, you know; I am not your real
sister. I mean that Aunt Jessie would be more particular about you and
what you did than about what I do.”
“You may go, of course, if you like,” said Kitty; “but you shall not
go if you do not like. Gussie shall not make your life a burden to
you.”
“I think I’ll go,” said Nancy. She rose very slowly and left the room.
“What a darling little thing she is!” said Kitty; “always so
self-denying and so anxious to please others. Now, I know she is
merely doing this to please Gussie; and why Gussie should be humoured
at every turn is more than I can understand. Nancy would have enjoyed
a long, quiet, happy day with us; and why should she make herself
perfectly miserable?”
“Augusta has a power over her which I can never understand,” replied
Nora. “She does very wrong indeed to accept the Asprays’ invitation;
but perhaps it is as well, since she insists on going, that Nancy
should go with her. She won’t be quite so daring and so unladylike if
Nancy is by.”
“Oh dear!” cried Kitty, “do you really think our cousin Augusta
unladylike?”
“When she does underhand things I do,” replied Nora. “But there, Kit!
don’t let us worry any more. We have a lot to do, and on this day of
all days we must not be idle, with dear Uncle Peter coming in the
evening.”
“Do you know,” exclaimed Kitty, “that I cannot find the key of the
chiffonier where the orderly-book is kept. Mother put it into my hand
just when she was going, and I can’t imagine where I placed it. Let us
go up and search mother’s room. It will never do for the key to be
lost just when Uncle Peter arrives.”
The girls ran upstairs and began to search in their mother’s room, but
nowhere, high or low, could they find the missing key. They questioned
the servants, and begged them to have a good search for it, and
presently, absorbed by other matters, forgot the circumstance.
Meanwhile Augusta was putting on her gayest and most becoming
costume.
When Nancy put her sad little face round the door and said “I am
going with you, Gussie,” just for a moment Augusta’s conscience did
give her a sharp prick.
“You are good-natured,” she said, “and I won’t forget it. Put on
something nice. Wear your pretty white dress and your white hat. You
look so nice all in pure white!”
Nancy nodded and went off to her room.
“She is a good-natured little soul,” thought Augusta. “It will be much
nicer for me to go with her than alone. If by any chance anything is
said, she must naturally take her share of the blame. What a blessing
that tiresome captain put off his visit till to-night! I only wish,
for my part, he would put it off altogether. Now, do I look best in
pink or blue? Pink, I think. Pale pink suits almost any one. My white
hat with the blush-roses will look sweet with this frock. I don’t want
those handsome girls to outshine me. Now I fancy I’ll do. I shall be
quite as smart as they are, and that is all I am going to trouble my
head about.”
At a quarter to eleven Augusta and Nancy left Fairleigh, and walked
down the dusty road until they came to the cross-roads where they were
to wait for the Asprays’ picnic party.
Punctual almost to the moment, a wagonette, a pony-carriage, and a
phaeton appeared in sight. The gaily dressed party shouted welcomes to
the two girls; and Mrs. Aspray, an exceedingly stout woman with a timid
face and a good-natured expression, bent forward and held out her hand
to welcome Augusta and Nancy.
“Why, I thought there were four of you,” she said. “Florrie said
four.—Didn’t you, Flo? You mentioned four girls; I am certain of it.”
“Yes, mother,” replied Flora; “but you can see for yourself that there
are only two waiting for us at the cross-roads.”
“I am so sorry,” here interrupted Augusta, speaking in her most
ladylike, company, and grownup manner, “but my cousins, Kitty and
Nora, are both suffering from bad colds, otherwise they would have
been delighted to come.”
Nancy’s face first grew red and then white when Augusta told this
falsehood. She was about to say something, but receiving a sharp nudge
on her elbow from the irrepressible Augusta, she held her peace.
Room was made for the two girls in the wagonette, and the party
proceeded gaily on their way. The day was a perfect one—neither too
hot nor too windy; the great heat of the summer’s sun was tempered by
refreshing breezes. The destination of the party was an old castle
which hung over the sea at the edge of a great promontory. The castle
was one of the show-places of the neighbourhood, and picnic parties
there were very common.
The custodian was very pleased to receive the Asprays and their
friends, and he told Mrs. Aspray that they could all have dinner in the
great stone hall where once upon a time, many ages ago, the monks of
the order of Ethelbert used to feed.
Augusta was in wild spirits, and Nancy tried hard to enjoy herself.
There were one or two quiet, gentle sort of girls who attached
themselves to her, and they walked about, examining the old place and
trying to piece together its past history.
Augusta meanwhile scarcely left Flora’s side. She liked her even
better than Constance. Flora was so gay, so hearty in her manner—so
daring, too. She was absolutely astonished when Augusta told her that
she, in her own sheltered life, had to conform to rules and to obey
conditions.
“But you are too old,” said Flora. “Why, you are seventeen, are you
not?”
“No,” answered Augusta; “I am only just sixteen.”
“As if that mattered! Why, in America we often marry as young as
sixteen, and we certainly do exactly what we like. Oh! I am so anxious
to introduce you to a great friend of ours—Mr. Archer. I did so hope
he would be here to-day! He is an American, and such fun! He will put
you up to a wrinkle or two. We heard from him this morning, and he
will arrive to-morrow. I know you would admire him; and what is more
to the point, I am certain he would like you. You are exactly the sort
of English girl to take his fancy.”
Augusta blushed when Flora talked about Mr. Archer and the extreme
likelihood of his taking a fancy to her.
“I don’t suppose he would for a minute. And I don’t know—this is
quite between ourselves—that I shall see much more of any of you.”
she answered.
“What do you mean by that? Don’t you like us?” asked Flora bluntly.
“Need you ask?” replied Augusta. “I cannot express to you what a
blessing it is to me having people like you close to us; but the
Richmonds have very funny ideas, and the fact is, as my aunt has not
called on your mother—— Oh, you understand, don’t you?”
“But your aunt is away. How can she call on mother? She would,
naturally, if she were at home.”
“Yes—yes; I know.”
“And being away,” continued Flora, “the necessary formalities cannot
be gone through. Surely we can all have fun together. There is
Constance.—Constance, I want to say a word to you.”
Constance danced up to her sister.
“Here is Miss Duncan,” continued Flora, “hinting to me that she won’t
be able to see much of us in future. Don’t you think that would be a
vast pity, Connie? And with David Archer coming, too!”
Constance laughed.
“You will like him immensely if you see him,” she said, staring full
at Augusta.
Once more the colour rushed into her guest’s face.
“Well,” said Augusta, “I must do my best. You may be sure I should
like to come. I have said so to your sister already. But there is a
Captain Richmond coming this evening—I call him Uncle Peter, although
he is not my real uncle—and he is awfully particular, and may prevent
me.”
“Captain Richmond!” cried both the girls.
“Is he young, and is he nice?” questioned Flora.
“Yes; I expect you would think him both young and good-looking. As to
his being nice, I expect he is that too, only he might not fulfil your
ideas.”
“I should like to see him,” said Flora. “Now, I tell you what, Gussie
(oh! you must let me call you Gussie—‘Miss Duncan’ is far too stiff),
you must manage—quite by accident, you know—to meet us to-morrow, or
next day, with your dear, particular Captain Richmond; then you will
be forced, you know, to introduce us, and we will introduce you to
David Archer.”
“All right. I will see what I can do,” answered Augusta.
A shout from another member of the party caused the three girls to
look up.
Mr. Aspray, a very stout man with a pale face, was calling to them to
hurry down and help to make tea, and no further private conversation
was possible. But as the carriages drew up at the crossroads for the
two girls to alight, Flora whispered in Augusta’s ear:
“Don’t forget, Gussie. Constance and I will be walking in the
Fairleigh woods to-morrow. Now, be as clever as you look, and do what
we want.”