Then they were silent again. By-and-by, Molly said,--
"Please, papa--I do wish to go,--but I don't care about it."
"That's rather a puzzling speech. But I suppose you mean you don't
care to go, if it will be any trouble to get you there. I can easily
manage it, however, so you may consider it settled. You'll want a
white frock, remember; you'd better tell Betty you're going, and
she'll see after making you tidy."
Now, there were two or three things to be done by Mr. Gibson, before
he could feel quite comfortable about Molly's going to the festival
at the Towers, and each of them involved a little trouble on his
part. But he was very willing to gratify his little girl; so the
next day he rode over to the Towers, ostensibly to visit some sick
housemaid, but, in reality, to throw himself in my lady's way, and
get her to ratify Lord Cumnor's invitation to Molly. He chose his
time, with a little natural diplomacy; which, indeed, he had often
to exercise in his intercourse with the great family. He rode into
the stable-yard about twelve o'clock, a little before luncheon-time,
and yet after the worry of opening the post-bag and discussing its
contents was over. After he had put up his horse, he went in by the
back-way to the house; the "House" on this side, the "Towers" at the
front. He saw his patient, gave his directions to the housekeeper,
and then went out, with a rare wild-flower in his hand, to find one
of the ladies Tranmere in the garden, where, according to his hope
and calculation, he came upon Lady Cumnor too,--now talking to her
daughter about the contents of an open letter which she held in her
hand, now directing a gardener about certain bedding-out plants.
"I was calling to see Nanny, and I took the opportunity of bringing
Lady Agnes the plant I was telling her about as growing on Cumnor
Moss."
"Thank you, so much, Mr. Gibson. Mamma, look! this is the _Drosera
rotundifolia_ I have been wanting so long."
"Ah! yes; very pretty I daresay, only I am no botanist. Nanny is
better, I hope? We can't have any one laid up next week, for the
house will be quite full of people,--and here are the Danbys waiting
to offer themselves as well. One comes down for a fortnight of quiet,
at Whitsuntide, and leaves half one's establishment in town, and as
soon as people know of our being here, we get letters without end,
longing for a breath of country air, or saying how lovely the Towers
must look in spring; and I must own, Lord Cumnor is a great deal to
blame for it all, for as soon as ever we are down here, he rides
about to all the neighbours, and invites them to come over and spend
a few days."