VII
There was an anxious moment on Betty's part when Edith Banfield summonedher to decide upon what dress should be worn for the evening. Pagot,whom Betty had asked to go and help her new friend, was wearing adisapproving look, and two or three fine French dresses were spread outfor inspection.
"Why, aren't you going to dress?" asked Edith. "I was afraid you wereall ready to go down, but I couldn't think what to put on."
"I'm all dressed," said Betty, with surprise. "Oh, what lovely gowns!But we"--she suddenly foresaw a great disappointment--"we needn't godown yet, you know, Edith; we are not out, and dinner isn't likeluncheon here in England. We can go down afterward, if we like, and hearthe songs, but we girls never go to dinner when it's a great dinnerlike this. I think it is much better fun to stay away; at least, Ialways have thought so until last night, and then it did really lookvery pleasant," she frankly added. "Why, I'm not sixteen, and you'reonly a little past, you know." But there lay a grown-up young lady'sevening gowns as if to confute all Betty's arguments.
"How awfully stupid!" said Edith, with great scorn. "Nursery tea foranybody like us!" and she turned to look at Betty's dress, which wascharming enough in its way, and made in very pretty girlish fashion. "Ishould think they'd make you wear a white pinafore," said Edithungraciously; but Betty, who had been getting a little angry, thoughtthis so funny that she laughed and felt much better.
"I wear muslins for very best," she said serenely. "Why, of course we'llgo down after dinner and stay a while before we say good-night; they'llbe out before half-past nine,--I mean the ladies,--and we'll be there inthe drawing-room. Oh, isn't that blue gown a beauty! I wish I had puton my best muslin, Pagot."
"You look very suitable, Miss Betty," said Pagot stiffly. Pagot was veryold-fashioned, and Edith made a funny little face at Betty behind herback.
The two girls had a delightful dinner together in the morning-room nextBetty's own, and Edith's good humor was quite restored. She had had agood day, on the whole, and the picture galleries and conservatories hadnot failed to please by their splendors and delights. After they hadfinished their dessert, Betty, as a great surprise, offered thehospitalities of the musicians' gallery, and they sped along thecorridors and up the stairs in great spirits, Betty leading the way."Now, don't upset the little benches," she whispered, as she opened thenarrow door out of the dark passage, and presently their two heads wereover the edge of the gallery. They leaned boldly out, for nobody wouldthink of looking up.
The great hall was even gayer and brighter than it had looked the nightbefore. The lights and colors shone, there were new people at table, andmuch talk was going on. The butler and his men were more military thanever; it was altogether a famous, much-diamonded dinner company, andLady Mary looked quite magnificent at the head.
"It looks pretty," whispered Edith; "but how dull it sounds! I don'tbelieve that they are having a bit of a good time. At home, you know,there's such a noise at a party. What a splendid big room!"
"People never talk loud when they get together in England," said Betty."They never make that awful chatter that we do at home. Just four orfive people who come to tea in Tideshead can make one another's earsache. I couldn't get used to it last summer; Aunt Barbara was almost theonly tea-party person in Tideshead who didn't get screaming."
"Oh, I do think it's splendid!" said Edith wistfully. "I wish we weredown there. I wish there was a little gallery lower down. There's LordDunwater, who sat next me at luncheon. Who's that next your father?"
There was a little noise behind the eager girls, and they turnedquickly. A tall boy had joined them, who seemed much disturbed atfinding any one in the gallery, which seldom had a visitor. Edith stoodup, and seemed an alarmingly tall and elegant young lady in the dimlight. Betty, who was as tall, was nothing like so imposing to behold atthat moment; but the new-comer turned to make his escape.
A TALL BOY HAD JOINED THEM]
"Don't go away," Betty begged, seeing his alarm, and wondering who hecould be. "There's plenty of room to look. Don't go." And thereupon thestranger came forward.
He was a handsome fellow, dressed in Eton clothes. He was much confused,and said nothing; and, after a look at the company below, during whichthe situation became more embarrassing to all three, he turned to goaway.
"Are you staying in the house, too?" asked Betty timidly; it was sovery awkward.
"I just came," said the boy, who now appeared to be a very nice fellowindeed. They had left the musicians' gallery,--nobody knew why,--and nowstood outside in the corridor.
"I just came," he repeated. "I walked over from the station across thefields. I'm Lady Mary's nephew, you know. She's not expecting me. I hadmy supper in the housekeeper's room. I was going on a week's tramp inFrance with my old tutor, just to get rid of Christmas parties andthings; but he strained a knee at football, and we had to give it up,and so I came here for the holidays. There was nothing else to do," heexplained ruefully. "What a lot of people my aunt's got this year!"
"It's very nice," said Betty cordially.
"It's beastly slow, _I_ think," said the boy. "I like it much betterwhen my aunt and I have the place to ourselves. Oh, no; that's not whatI mean!" he said, blushing crimson as both the girls laughed. "Only wehave jolly good times by ourselves, you know; no end of walks andrides; and we fish if the water's right. You ought to see my aunt cast afly."
"She's perfectly lovely, isn't she?" said Betty, in a tone which madethem firm friends at once. "We're going down to the drawing-room soon;wouldn't you like to come?"
"Yes," said the boy slowly. "It'll be fun to surprise her. And I sawLady Dimdale at dinner. I like Lady Dimdale awfully."
"So does papa," said Betty; "oh, so very much!--next to Lady Mary andMrs. Duncan."
"You're Betty Leicester, aren't you? Oh, I know you now," said the boy,turning toward her with real friendliness. "I danced with you at theDuncans', at a party, just before I first went to Eton,--oh, ever solong ago!--you won't remember it; and I've seen you once besides, attheir place in Warwickshire, you know. I'm Warford, you know."
"Why, of course," said Betty, with great pleasure. "It puzzled me; Icouldn't think at first, but you've quite grown up since then. How weused to dance when we were little things! Do you like it now?"
"No, I hate it," said Warford coldly, and they all three laughed. Edithwas walking alongside, feeling much left out of the conversation, thoughWarford had been stealing glances at her.
"Oh, I am so sorry--I didn't think," Betty exclaimed in her politestmanner. "Miss Banfield, this is Lord Warford. I didn't mean to be rude,but you were a great surprise, weren't you?" and they all laughed again,as young people will. Just then they reached the door of Lady Mary'smorning-room; the girls' dessert was still on the table, and, beingproperly invited, Warford began to eat the rest of the fruit. "One nevergets quite enough grapes," said Warford, who was evidently suffering theconstant hunger of a rapidly growing person.
Edith Banfield certainly looked very pretty, both her companionsthought so; but they felt much more at home with each other. It seemedas if she were a great deal older than they, in her fine evening gown.Warford was very admiring and very polite, but Betty and he were alreadyplunged into the deep intimacy of true fellowship. Edith got impatientbefore they were ready to go downstairs, but at last they all starteddown the great staircase, and had just settled themselves in thedrawing-room when the ladies began to come in.
"Why, Warford, my dear!" said Lady Mary, with great delight, as he mether and kissed her twice, as if they were quite by themselves; then heturned and spoke to Lady Dimdale, who was just behind, still keepingLady Mary's left hand in his own. Warford looked taller and more manlythan ever in the bright light, and he was recognized warmly by nearlyall the ladies, being not only a fine fellow, but the heir of Daneslyand great possessions besides, so that he stood for much that wasinteresting, even if he had not been interesting himself. Betty andEdith looked on with pleasure, and presently Lady Mary came toward th
em.
"I am so glad that you came down," she said; "and how nice of you tobring Warford! He usually objects so much that I believe you have foundsome new way to make it easy. I suppose it is dull when he is byhimself. Mr. Frame is here, and has promised to sing by and by. He andLady Dimdale have practiced some duets--their voices are charmingtogether. I hope that you will not go up until afterward, no matter howlate."
Betty, who had been sitting when Lady Mary came toward her, had risen atonce to meet her, without thinking about it; but Edith Banfield stillsat in her low chair, feeling stiff and uncomfortable, while Lady Marydid not find it easy to talk down at her or to think of anything to say.All at once it came to Edith's mind to follow Betty's example, and theyall three stood together talking cheerfully until Lady Mary had to go toher other guests.
"Isn't she lovely!" said Edith, with all the ardor that Betty couldwish. "I don't feel a bit afraid of her, as I thought I should."
"She takes such dear trouble," said Betty, warmly. "She never forgetsanybody. Some grown persons behave as if you ought to be ashamed of notbeing older, and as if you were going to bore them if they didn't lookout." At this moment Warford came back most loyally from the other sideof the room, and presently some gentlemen made their appearance, and thedelightful singing began. Betty, who loved music, sat and listened likea quiet young robin in her red dress, and her father, who looked at herhappy, dreaming face, was sure that there never had been a dearer girlin the world. Lady Mary looked at her too, and was really full ofwonder, because in some way Betty had managed with simple friendlinessto make her shy nephew quite forget himself, and to give some feeling ofbelongingness to Edith Banfield, who would have felt astray by herselfin a strange English house.