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Updated: May 1, 2025
It was late; people were leaving the pavilion; victorias and beach-phaetons were trundling off loaded to the water-line with fat dowagers; gay groups passed, hailing her or waving adieux; Drina drove up in her village-cart, calling out: "Are you coming, Eileen, or are you going to walk over? Hurry up! I'm hungry."
Georgie gathered a great basketful of nasturtiums, heliotrope, and mignonette to carry down to Miss Gisborne, and Marian was sent off in the village-cart with a similar basketful for Mrs. Frewen. The house was all in a confusion of packing. Frederic was wrapping tissue-paper round the picture-frames, Elizabeth counting linen and silver, the gardeners emptying the balcony boxes. Mrs.
There was a sound of wheels, and the Frewens' village-cart drove rapidly in and set Marian down on the porch. As it drove away, another carriage met and passed it at the gate. It was the coupé, and Mrs. Gray and Gertrude were inside. With a shriek of joy Marian shot down the gravel walk to meet them. John stopped his horses, Mrs. Gray jumped out, and Marian sprang into her arms.
"I'll go with you," she said, nodding adieu to Gladys; and she swung off the step and crossed the shell road. "Jump in," urged the child; "I'm in a dreadful hurry, and Odin can't trot very fast." "I'd prefer to drive slowly," said Miss Erroll in a colourless voice; and seated herself in the village-cart. "Why must I drive slowly?" demanded the child.
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