The New Mistress Part 11

"Here they are at last," exclaimed Miss Lambent. "I told you so. Now, Beatrice, what do you say?"

"Nothing," replied her sister quietly.

"Then I say something. George Canninge wouldn't have come here to a children's school feast unless he had expected to meet some one particular."

The object of their conversation had just helped a tall, handsome lady, with perfectly white hair, to descend from a phaeton drawn by a splendid pair of bays. He was a broad-shouldered, sparely-made man of about thirty, with dark, closely-cut whiskers--beards were an abomination then--and keen grey eyes, which took in the whole scene at a glance, and, what was more, to find satisfaction as he took off and replaced his grey felt hat, and then, from habit, took out a white handkerchief and dusted his glossy boots.

"How absurd, mother! Thought I'd been walking," he said. "Bravo, Burge! He's doing it well. Hang it mother! I like that fellow."

"It's a pity, dear, that he is so vulgar."

"Oh, I don't know. He's frank and honesty and don't pretend to be anything more that what he is--a successful tradesman. Never saw a man less of a sn.o.b. Oh, there are the Lambents. I say, who's the lady talking to the parson?"

"I don't know, my dear," said Mrs Canninge, "unless it is the new schoolmistress."

"Nonsense: can't be. Oh, here's Burge! How are you, Burge? Glad you've got such a fine day for your treat."

"So am I, Mr Canninge, so am I. Thank you for coming, sir. Thank you for coming too, ma'am. My sister is up by the house, and there's lunch in the dining-room, and you'll excuse me, won't you! I have such heaps to do."

"Excuse you, of course. And I say, Burge, your going to give the youngsters some fun, I hope?"

"Fun, sir? I mean to let them have a jolly good lark."

"Don't let Lambent get them together and preach at the poor little beggars."

Mr William Forth Burge's face expanded, and he showed all his white teeth.

"That's what I like sir. That's the genuine old English squire said that."

"Nonsense, Burge."

"Oh, but it is, Mr Canninge. I know what's what as well as most men; and, look here, sir, I mean them to thoroughly enjoy themselves to-day."

"That's right, and I'll help you."

"You will, sir?" cried the giver of the feast.

"To be sure I will; get up some races and that sort of thing."

"I've got it all down on a piece of paper here, sir; only you wait.

Now, I must go."

"He is really very vulgar, George," said the lady; "but there is a bluffness about him that I do like after all. But hadn't we better go and speak to Miss Burge?"

"Come along then. Oh, there are the Lambents with her now."

The Canninges went up to little Miss Burge, the lady saluting her graciously, and the young squire very heartily; and then salutations were being exchanged with the Misses Lambent, Beatrice looking bright and handsome as George Canninge shook hands in a frank gentlemanly way, as a deafening clamour arose behind them, and, turning, there was the host wielding a great dinner-bell with all his might.

As he ceased, the children cheered, the band struck up, and the little processions were marched past the company on the terrace, the boys to one end of the marquee, the girls to the other, Hazel now at the head of her troop, looking bright and animated, excited slightly by the scene, and being admired more than she knew by those whom she pa.s.sed.

As she came abreast of the group, she involuntarily raised her eyes, and they encountered a grave, earnest gaze from one whom she had never before seen; and in that brief moment she was aware that she was the object of a very scrutinising examination.

The next minute she had pa.s.sed between the folds of the tent door, and was busy getting her girls seated at the long table on one side, the boys occupying a second long table on the other side, both being covered with well-cooked hot joints, steaming potatoes, and, dear to all children's hearts, plenty of pies and puddings.

"Well, ladies," said Mr Canninge, "shall we adjourn to the tent?"

"Did you think of going in?" said Beatrice.

"To be sure," he said gaily. "I am going to help."

"Going to help!" said Miss Lambent.

"To be sure: I promised Mr Burge. Let me take you in. Miss Lambent."

Rebecca took a long breath and the squire's arm. She liked it, but she knew that Beatrice would be out of temper for hours after.

There was no cause for temper, though--for the squire, as he was always called in the neighbourhood, had no sooner led the elder Miss Lambent within the canvas walls, then he coolly forsook her, and went and placed himself behind a great sirloin of beef at one end of the girls' table, facing Mr William Forth Burge, who had the twin joint before him, over which his round red face was smiling pleasantly. The vicar had gone to one end of the boys' table, the master being at the other, while several of the princ.i.p.al tradesmen took their places in front of other joints.

"Now, boys and girls," cried the host, "are you all ready?"

The chorus of "yes!" was startling.

"Then silence for grace," roared the host; and then, rapidly, "What we're going to receive make us truly thankful. Amen. Lots of plates here!"

Before he finished, his great carving-knife was playing a tune in that skilful way peculiar to butchers, upon a silver-mounted steel, while the vicar looked aghast and George Canninge stooped down to hide a smile.

It was quite an insult when the vicar was present but in the innocency of his heart, Mr William Forth Burge was hoping the joints were done, and eager to begin.

"Now, gentlemen, carve away, please," he shouted. "Other ladies and gentlemen and servants, please pa.s.s the plates and 'taters. I want the youngsters to have a good dinner to-day. Now, Thomas," he cried to his coachman, who had just set down a pile of plates, "you lay hold of that--that spoon, and do nothing but ladle out gravy to every plate."

As he spoke, he was slicing off in the most skilful way prime sirloin of beef, and, smiling with delight, he said that it was done to a turn, as he called it.

"I chose every joint myself," he said to one. "Pa.s.s the plates quick.

See that they have plenty of 'taters, ladies. Eat away, girls."

The visitors, after a few moments' awkward hesitation, turned themselves into waiters, and the carvers had a tremendous time, for quite two hundred hearty girls and boys were eating with all the enjoyment of their young healthy appet.i.tes.

"More! That's right!" cried the young squire. "I beg your pardon, Miss--I really don't know your name; I'm afraid I've splashed your dress."

"Pray don't mention it," said Hazel quietly, for she had been busily handing plates, looking brighter and happier than she had appeared for months.

"I'm quite envious of our host," said Canninge the next time Hazel brought a plate. "He carves beautifully, and I've hacked my joint to pieces."

"Send your knife up here, Mr Canninge," roared Mr W.F.B. from the other end of the table. "I'll give it a touch on my steel."

"Will you allow me?" said Hazel, who was the only waiter near.

"No, really, I could not think of--Well, if you will--"