'Cecil is right, Master Frank,' laughed his mother; 'Cam and Isis are not the only streams of learning in the world.'
'I never heard of him,' said Jenny; 'he is a mere satellite to the great luminary.'
'They are worth seeing,' added Frank; 'she is one of those regular American beauties one would pay to get a sight of.'
'Where did you get all this information?' asked Cecil.
'From Duncombe himself. They met on the Righi; and nothing is more comical than to near him describe the ladies' fraternization over female doctors and lawyers, till they rushed into each other's arms, and the Clio promised to come down on a crusade and convert you all.'
'There are two ways of telling a story,' said Cecil.
'No wonder the gentlemen quake!' said Mrs. Poynsett.
'I don't,' said Frank, boyishly.
'Because you've no wife to take you in hand,' retorted Jenny.
'For my part,' said Mrs. Poynsett, 'I can't see what women want. I have always had as many rights as I could exercise.'
'Ah! but we are not all ladies of the manor,' said Jenny, 'nor do we all drive coaches.'
'I observe,' said Cecil, with dignity, 'that there is supposed to be a license to laugh at Mrs. Duncombe and whatever she does.'
'She would do better to mind her children,' said Frank.
'Children! Has she children?' broke in Anne and Rosamond, both at once.
'Didn't you know it?' said Jenny.
'No, indeed! I didn't think her the sort of woman,' said Rosamond. 'What does she do with them?'
'Drops them in the gutter,' said Frank. 'Literally, as I came home, I heard a squeak, and found a child flat in a little watercourse. I picked it out, and the elder one told me it was Ducky Duncombe, or some such word. Its little boots had holes in them, mother; its legs were purple, and there was a fine smart foreign woman flirting round the corner with young Hornblower.'
'Boys with long red hair, and Highland dresses?' exclaimed Rosamond. 'Yes, the same we saw with Miss Vivian!'
'Exactly!' said Frank, eagerly. 'She is quite a mother to those poor little wretches; they watch for her at the Sirenwood gate, and she walks with them. The boy's cry was not for mother or nurse, but for Lena!'
'Pray, did she come at his call?'
'No; but when I carried the brat home, poor Duncombe told me almost with tears, how good she is to them. I fancy he feels their mother's neglect of them.'
'I'm sure I gave her credit for having none,' said Rosamond.
'Ah!' said Jenny, 'you should have heard her condolences with my sister Mary on her last infliction. Fancy Mary's face!'
'No doubt it was to stem a torrent of nursery discussions,' said Cecil. 'Such bad taste!'
'Which?' murmured Rosamond under her breath, with an arched eyebrow.
'Plain enough,' said Frank: 'if a woman is a woman, the bad taste is to be ashamed of it.'
'Yes,' said Cecil, 'that is the way with men; they would fain keep us down to the level of the nursery.'
'I thought nurseries were usually at the top of the house.'
'Perhaps,' said Mrs. Poynsett, disregarding this mischievous suggestion, 'they mean that organization, like charity, should begin at home.'
'You say that meaningly,' said Rosamond. 'I have heard very odd stories of domestic affairs at Aucuba Villa, and that she can't get a servant to stay there.'
'That man, Alexander, has always been there,' said Frank.
'Yes; but he has occasionally to do all the work of the house. Yes, I can't help it, Cecil, Susan will regale me with cook-stories sometimes; and I have heard of the whole establishment turning out on being required to eat funguses.'
'I shall beware of dining there!' said Rosamond.
'Don't they dine here to-morrow?' asked Frank.
'No, they are engaged to the Moys,' said Cecil.
'But the Vivians come?'
'Oh yes.'
Every one knew that already; but Frank could not help having it repeated. It was a mere formal necessity to ask them, and had been accepted as such; but there was some amazement when Cecil brought home Lady Tyrrell and Miss Vivian to lunch and spend the afternoon. It might be intended as one of her demonstrations; for though it was understood that any of the inmates were free to bring home friends to luncheon, it was not done-except with a casual gentleman- without notice to the mistress of the house. Cecil, however, comported herself entirely as in that position, explaining that Lady Tyrrell was come to give her advice upon an intended fernery, and would perform her toilette here, so as to have plenty of time. Frank, little knowing what was passing, was working the whole day at his tutor's for the closely imminent examination; Julius and Raymond were gravely polite; Eleonora very silent; and as soon as the meal was over, Rosamond declared that she should not come out to stand planning in the cold; and though Herbert would have liked nothing better in that company, his Rector carried him off to arrange an Advent service in a distant hamlet; Anne's horse came to the door; and only Joanna remained to accompany the gardening party, except that Raymond came out with them to mark the limits of permissible alteration.
'How unchanged!' exclaimed Lady Tyrrell. 'Time stands still here; only where is the grand old magnolia? How sweet it used to be!'
'Killed by the frost,' said Raymond, shortly, not choosing to undergo a course of reminiscences, and chafing his wife by his repressive manner towards her guest. When he had pointed out the bed of Americans that were to be her boundary, he excused himself as having letters to finish; and as he went away Cecil gave vent to her distaste to the old shrubs and borders, now, of course, at their worst-the azaleas mere dead branches, the roses with a few yellow night-capped buds still lingering, and fuchsias with a scanty bell or two.
Jenny fought for their spring beauty, all the more because Lady Tyrrell was encouraging the wife to criticize the very things she had tried to sentimentalize over with the husband; but seeing that she was only doing harm, she proposed a brisk walk to Eleonora, who gladly assented, though her sister made a protest about damp, and her being a bad walker. The last things they heard was Cecil's sigh, 'It is all so shut in, wherever there is level ground, that the bazaar would be impossible.'
'I should hope so!' muttered Jenny.
'What do you mean to do about this bazaar?' asked Eleonora, as they sped away.
'I don't know. Those things so often go off in smoke, that I don't make up my mind till they become imminent.'
'I am afraid this will go on,' said Eleonora. 'Camilla means it and she always carries out her plans; I wish I saw the right line.'
'About that?'
'About everything. It seems to me that there never was any one so cut off from help and advice as I am;' then, as Joanna made some mute sign of sympathy, 'I knew you would understand; I have been longing to be with you, for there has been no one to whom I could speak freely since I left Rockpier.'
'And I have been longing to have you. Mamma would have asked you to stay with us before, only we had the house full. Can't you come now?'
'You will see that I shall not be allowed. It is of no use to think about it!' said the girl, with a sigh. 'Here, let us get out of this broad path, or she may yet come after us-persuade Mrs. Charnock Poynsett it is too cold to stand about-anything to break up a tete-a-tete.'
Jenny saw she really was in absolute fear of pursuit; but hardly yet understood the nervous haste to turn into a not very inviting side-path, veiled by the trees, whose wet leaves were falling.
'Do you mind the damp?' asked the girl, anxiously.
'No, not at all; but-'
'You don't know what it is never to feel free, but be like a French girl, always watched-at least whenever I am with any one I care to speak to.'
