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It is true they had to go to school as usual, and learn their home lessons, but their lack of attention in school-hours must have sorely tried their teachers, and their home lessons were crushed into the smallest space of time so as not to interfere with the crowded hours of glorious living that Lord Bidborough managed to make for them.
One afternoon Lewis Elliot called at The Rigs. "Sitting alone, Jean? Well, it's nice to find you in. I thought you would be out with your new friends." "Lord Bidborough has motored Pamela down Tweed to see some people," Jean explained. "They asked me to go with them, but I thought I might perhaps be in the way. Lord Bidborough is frightfully pleased to be able to hire a motor to drive.
"I suppose you won't have heard from Miss Reston since she went away?" "I had a letter from her a few days ago." Mrs. Duff-Whalley waited expectantly for a moment, but as Jean said nothing more she continued: "Did she talk of future plans? We simply must fix them both up for a week at The Towers. Lord Bidborough told us he had quite fallen in love with Priorsford and would be sure to come back.
Mary's," Lord Bidborough told her. "It's about ten miles from Stratford. I'm staying at the inn there to-night, and I trust you to see that they are all off to-morrow in good time." He turned to Mr. Macdonald. "It's most extraordinarily kind, sir, of you both to come. I knew Jean would never feel herself properly married if you were not there. And we wondered, Mrs.
O spread Thy covering wings around Till all our wanderings cease, And at our Father's loved abode Our souls arrive in peace." Out in the sunshine, among the blossoms, Jean stood with her husband and was kissed and blessed. "Jean, Lady Bidborough," said Pamela. "Gosh, Maggie!" said Jock, "I quite forgot Jean would be Lady Bidborough. What a joke!" "She doesn't look any different," Mhor complained.
Pamela said she would bring everything that was needed, and would arrive on the evening of the 29th with Lewis and David. The Macdonalds wired that they were coming, and Lord Bidborough interviewed the vicar of the little church among the blossoms and explained everything to him.
"There's a thing I want to ask you, anyway," said Mhor. "Yes, I'm going to bed, Jean. Whether do you think Quentin Durward or Charlie Chaplin would be the better man in a fight?" Lord Bidborough gave the matter some earnest thought, and decided on Quentin Durward. "I told you that," said. Jock to Mhor. "Now, perhaps, you'll believe me." "I don't know," said Mhor, still doubtful.
Oh, we'll see her Lady Bidborough yet.... I tell you what it is, Muriel, the way this world's managed is past speaking about." Mrs. "Here are you, meant, as anyone can see, for the highest position, and instead that absurd little Jean is to be cocked up, a girl with no more dignity than a sparrow, who couldn't keep her place with a washerwoman.
She walked in shyly, winged like Mercury, to be greeted respectfully by a row of servants. Jean shook hands with each one, smiling at them with her "doggy" eyes, wishing all the time for Mrs. M'Cosh, who was not specially respectful, but always homely and humorous. Tea was ready in a small panelled room with a view of the lawns and the river. "I asked them to put it here," Lord Bidborough said.
Sir Thomas Smythe, of Bidborough, in the county of Kent, ambassador to Russia in 1604, whose male descendants became extinct on the death of Sir Stafford Sydney Smythe, Chief Baron of the Exchequer, in 1778. 5. Sir Richard Smythe, of Leeds Castle, in Kent, whose son, Sir John, dying issueless, in 1632, his sisters became his co-heiresses. 6. Robert Smythe, of Highgate, who left issue. 7.
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