Melbourne House Part 75

CHAPTER XXI.

TEA AT HOME.

The next day turned out so warm, that the carriage was not brought for Daisy till late in the afternoon. Then it came, with her father and Dr. Sandford; and Daisy was lifted in Mr.

Randolph's arms, and carefully placed on the front seat of the carriage, which she had all to herself. Her father and the doctor got in and sat opposite to her; and the carriage drove away.

The parting with Juanita had been very tenderly affectionate, and had gone very near to Daisy's heart. Not choosing to show this more than she could help, as usual, Daisy at first lay still on the cus.h.i.+ons with an exceedingly old-fas.h.i.+oned face; it was as demure and sedate as if the gravity of forty years had been over it. But presently the carriage turned the corner into the road to Melbourne; Daisy caught sight for a second of the houses and church spires of Crum Elbow, that she had not seen for so long. A pink flush rose over her face.

"What is it, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, who had been watching her.

"Papa ? it's so nice to see things again!"

"You had a pretty dull time of it at Mrs. Benoit's?" remarked the doctor.

"No ? Oh, no, I didn't. I did not have it dull at all."

"How did you escape that, Daisy?"

"I do not know, Dr. Sandford. There was no room for dulness."

The gentlemen smiled, but Daisy's father with a not altogether satisfied expression. He grew satisfied, as he marked the changes in Daisy's face. The ride was delightful to her. The carriage was easy; she was nicely placed; and through the open gla.s.s before her she could look oat quite uninterruptedly. It was so pleasant, she thought, even to see the road and the fences again. That little bit of view before Mrs. Benoit's window she had studied over and over, till she knew it by heart. Now every step brought something new; and the roll of the carriage-wheels was itself enlivening. There was a reaped grain-field; there a meadow, with cattle pasturing. Now they pa.s.sed a farm wagon going home, laden with sheaves; next came a cottage, well known, but not seen for a long time, with its wonted half-door open and the cottager's children playing about. Then came patches of woodland, with the sun s.h.i.+ning through; and a field of flouris.h.i.+ng Indian corn with the sunlight all over it; then more meadows with cattle.

"Do you ride comfortably, Daisy?" her father asked, bending over to her.

"Yes, papa. It is so nice!"

Mr. Randolph gave up care about Daisy, and the two gentlemen fell into a conversation which did not regard her, and lasted till the carriage stopped at the door of Melbourne House. And there was her mother, and there were Preston and his mother and sister, and Gary McFarlane, who had been away, and come back again, all waiting to welcome her; besides some other guests who were now at Melbourne.

Mr. Randolph got out of the carriage first. Dr. Sandford followed him; but then, without giving place to anybody else, he himself took Daisy carefully off the seat where she lay, lifted her out in his arms, and carried her into the house.

All the others trooped around and after him, through the hall and into the drawing-room, where the doctor laid his little charge on the sofa and put the pillows behind her so that she could sit up comfortably. Then he stood back and let the others come to her. Mrs. Randolph gave her some very contented kisses; so did Mr. Randolph. Very glad and tender his were, at having his little daughter back there again.

"We are very much pleased to see you here, Daisy," her aunt said.

"Poor Daisy," said Eloise.

"Glad to come back to life and the world again, Daisy." said Preston, standing at the back of her sofa and drumming on it.

"I understand, Daisy," said McFarlane, "that you have been an enchanted beauty, or a sleeping princess, during these weeks of my absence ? under the guardians.h.i.+p of an old black witch, who drew incantations and water together from her well every morning."

"I can answer for the incantations," said Preston. "I have heard 'em."

Daisy's face flushed all over. "Preston, you do very wrong,"

she said, turning her head round to him. But Preston only burst into a fit of laughter, which he turned away to hide.

Others of the company now came up to take Daisy's hand, and kiss her, and say how glad they were to see her; these people were very much strangers to Daisy, and their greeting was no particular pleasure; but it had to be attended to. Then tea came in, and Daisy was well petted. It was very pleasant to have it so; after the silence and quiet of Juanita's little cottage, the lights and dresses and people and silver urn and tea service and flowers made quite a picture. Flowers had been in the cottage too, but not such wealth of them. Just opposite to Daisy, in the middle of the floor, stood a great stone basket, or wide vase, on a pedestal; and this vase was a ma.s.s of beautiful flowers. Trailing wreaths of roses and fuchsias and geraniums even floated down from the edges of the vase and sought the floor; the pedestal was half draped with them. It was a very lovely sight to Daisy's eyes. And then her mother ordered a little stand brought to the sofa's side; and her father placed it; and Gary brought her cup of tea, and Dr.

Sandford spread her slice of toast. Daisy felt as if she loved everybody, and was very happy. The summer air floated in at the long windows, just as it used to do. It was _home_. Daisy began to realise the fact.

Meanwhile attention ceased to be filled with her particular affairs, and conversation flowed off as usual, away from her.

Preston still held his station at the back of the sofa, where he dipped sponge-cake in tea with a wonderful persistency; in fact, the question seemed to be whether he or the cake basket would give out first; but for a while Daisy eat her toast in happy quiet; watching everybody and enjoying everything. Till Gary McFarlane drew near, and took a seat, as if for a regular siege.

"So what about those incantations, Daisy?" he said.

"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."

"No? don't you? That's odd. You have been so long in the witch's precincts. You have heard them, of course?"

"I do not know what you mean, Mr. McFarlane."

"Why, you must have been bewitched. I wonder, now, if the witch's house did not seem to you a palace?"

"It seemed a very nice place."

"And the witch herself a sable princess?"

"I think she is a great deal better than a princess."

"Exactly so," said Gary, with a perfectly sober face. "The witch drew water, didn't she?"

"I don't know what you mean. Mrs. Benoit used to bring pails of water from her well."

"Very good. And you never heard her incantations, muttering in the morning before the dew was off the gra.s.s, or at night just as the first beams of the moon lighted on the topmost boughs of the trees?"

Daisy was confounded. "Mr. McFarlane," she said, after a moment's looking at him ? "I hope I do not know what you mean."

At that, Gary McFarlane went off into an ecstasy of laughter, delighted and amused beyond count. Preston interrupted the sponge-cake exercise, and Daisy felt her sofa shaking with his burden of amus.e.m.e.nt. What had she done? Glancing her eye towards Dr. Sandford, who sat near, she saw that a very decided smile was curling the corners of _his_ mouth. A flush came up all over Daisy's face; she took some tea, but it did not taste good any longer.

"What did you think I meant? ? come, Daisy, tell me," said Gary, returning to Daisy as soon as he could get over his paroxysm of laughter. "What did you think I meant? I shouldn't wonder if you had some private witchcraft of your own. Come!

what did you _think_ I meant?"

While he had been laughing, Daisy had been trying to get command of herself, and to get her throat clear for talking; there had been a very uncomfortable thick feeling in it at first. Now she answered with simple dignity and soberness, "I did not know, Mr. McFarlane, but you meant Juanita's prayers."

"Does she pray?" said Gary, innocently.

"Yes."

"Long prayers, Daisy?"

"Yes," ? unwillingly now.

"Then, that must have been what you heard!" Gary said, looking up to Preston. No answer came from him. Gary was as sober now as seven judges.

"Did she speak her prayers where you could hear her, Daisy?"

"I used to hear her ?"

"Mornings and evenings?"

"Yes."