'But Elfie will have some sweet-cake; Elfie likes auntie's sweet- cake, eh?' said the old man.
'No, thank you,' said Elfie, glumly, though in fact she did care considerably for sweets, and was always buying bonbons.
'No cake! Or some strawberries-strawberries and cream,' said her grandfather. 'Mr. Allen always liked them. And where is Mr. Allen now, my dear?'
'Gone to Norway. It's the fifth time I've told him so,' muttered Elvira.
'And where is Mr. Robert? And Mr. Lucas?' he went on. 'Fine young gentlemen all of them; but Mr. Allen is the pleasant-spoken one. Ain't he coming down soon? He always looks in and says, 'I don't forget your good cider, Mr. Gould,'' and there was a feeble chuckling laugh and old man's cough.
'Do let me go into the garden; I'm quite faint,' cried Elvira, jumping up.
It was true that the room was very close, rather medicinal, and not improved by Miss Gould's perfumes; but there was an alacrity about Elfie's movements, and a vehemence in the manner of her rejection of the said essences, which made her governess not think her case alarming, and she left her to the care of the young cousins, while trying to make up for her incivility by courteously listening to and answering her grandfather, and consuming the tea and sweet-cake.
When she went out to fetch her pupil to say goodbye, Miss Gould detained her on the way to obtain condolence on the 'dreadful trial that old uncle was,' and speak of her own great devotion to him and the children, and the sacrifices she had made. She said she had been at school with Elvira's poor mamma, 'a sweetly pretty girl, poor dear, but so indulged.'
And then she tried to extract confidences as to Mrs. Brownlow's intentions towards the child, in which of course she was baffled.
Elvira was found ranging among the strawberries, with Mary and Kate looking on somewhat dissatisfied.
Both the poor girls looked constrained and unhappy, and Miss Ogilvie wondered whether 'Cousin Lisette's' evident intentions of becoming a fixture would be for their good or the reverse.
'Are you better, my dear?' asked she, affectionately.
'Yes, it was only the room,' said Elvira.
'You are a good deal there, are not you?' said Miss Ogilvie to Mary, who had the white flabby look of being kept in an unwholesome atmosphere.
'Yes,' said Mary, wistfully, 'but grandpapa does not like having me half so much as Elvira. He is always talking about her.'
'You had better come back to him now, Elfie,' said Miss Ogilvie.
'It makes me ill,' said Elvira, with her crossest look.
Her governess laid her hand on her shoulder, and told her in a few decided words, in the lowest possible voice, that she was not going away till she had taken a properly respectful and affectionate leave of her grandfather. Whereupon she knew further resistance was of no use, and going hastily to the door of the room, called out-
'Good-bye, then, grandpapa.'
'Ah! my little beauty, are you there?' he asked, in a tone of bewildered pleasure, holding out the one hand he could use.
Elvira was forced to let herself be held by it. She hoped to kiss his brow, and escape; but the poor knotted fingers which had once been so strong, would not let her go, and she had to endure many more kisses and caresses and blessings than her proud thoughtless nature could endure before she made her escape. And then 'Cousin Lisette' insisted on a kiss for the sake of her dear mamma; and Elfie could only exhale her exasperation by rushing to the pony-carriage, avoiding all kisses to her young cousins, taking the driving seat, and whipping up the ponies more than their tender-hearted mistress would by any means have approved.
Miss Ogilvie abstained from either blame or argument, knowing that it would only make her worse; and recollecting the old Undine theory, wondered whether the Elf would ever find her soul, and think with tender regret of the affection she was spurning.
The next day the travellers started, sleeping a couple of nights in Hyde Corner, for convenience of purchases and preparations.
They were to meet Mrs. Evelyn at the station; but Janet, who foretold that she would be another Serene Highness, soured by having missed the family title, retarded their start till so late that there could be no introduction on the platform; but seats had to be rushed for, while a servant took the tickets.
However, a tall, elderly, military-looking gentleman with a great white moustache, was standing by the open door of a carriage.
'Miss Brownlow,' said he, handing them in-Babie first, next Janet, and then Elvira.
He then bowed to Miss Ogilvie, took his seat, handed in the appurtenances, received, showed, and pocketed the tickets, negotiated Janet's purchase of newspapers, and constituted himself altogether cavalier to the party.
Sir James Evelyn! Janet had no turn for soldiers, and was not gratified; but Elvira saw that her blue eyes and golden hair were producing the effect she knew how to trace; so she was graciously pleased to accept Punch, and to smile a bewitching acceptance of the seat assigned to her opposite to the old general.
Barbara was opposite to Mrs. Evelyn, and next to Sydney, a girl a few months older than herself, but considerably taller and larger. Mother and daughter were a good deal alike, save that the girl was fresh plump, and rosy, and the mother worn, with the red colouring burnt as it were into her thin cheeks. Yet both looked as if smiles were no strangers to their lips, though there were lines of anxiety and sorrow traced round Mrs. Evelyn's temples. Their voices were sweet and full, and the elder lady spoke with a tender intonation that inspired Babie with trustful content and affection, but caused Janet to pass a mental verdict of 'Sugared milk and water.'
She immersed herself in her Pall Mall, and left Babie to exchange scraps of intelligence from the brother's letters, and compare notes on the journey.
By-and-by Mrs. Evelyn retired into her book, and the two little girls put their heads together over a newly- arrived acrostic, calling on Elfie to assist them.
'Do you like acrostics?' she said, peeping up through her long eyelashes at the old general.
'Oh, don't tease Uncle James,' hastily interposed Sydney, as yet inexperienced in the difference between the importunities of a merely nice-looking niece, and the blandishments of a brilliant stranger. Sir James said kindly-
'What, my dear?'
And when Elvira replied-
'Do help us to guess this. What does man love most below?' he put on a droll face, and answered-
'His pipe.'
'O Uncle James, that's too bad,' cried Sydney.
'If Jock had made this acrostic, it might be pipe,' said Babie; 'but this is Armine's.'
It was thereupon handed to the elders, who read, in a boyish hand- writing-
Twins, parted from their rocky nest, We run our wondrous race, And now in tumult, now at rest, Flash back heaven's radiant face.
1. While both alike _this_ name we bear, And both like life we flow, 2. And near us nestle sweet and fair What man most loves below.
Alike it is our boasted claim To nurse the precious juice 3. That maddened erst the Theban dame, With streaming tresses loose.
4. The evening land is sought by one, One rushes towards midday, One to a vigil song has run, One heard Red Freedom's lay.
Tall castles, glorious battlefields Graced this in ages past, But now its mighty power that yields 5. To work my busy last.
'Is that your brother Armine's own?' asked Sir James, surprised.
'O yes,' said Janet with impressive carelessness, 'all my brothers have a facility in stringing rhymes.'
'Not Bobus,' said Elvira.
'He does not think it worth while,' said Janet, again absorbing herself in her paper, while the public united in guessing the acrostic; and the only objection was raised by the exact General, who would not allow that the 'Marseillaise' was sung at the mouth of the Rhone, and defended Ino's sobriety.
Barbara and Sydney lived upon those acrostics in their travelling bags till they reached Folkestone, and had
