Flaming June | Page 8

of
elegance in Norton society!--then with a sudden softening of expression
found herself hoping that there would be something of Edward in looks

or manner! She was a lonely woman, living apart from her kin. To have
someone of her own would be a new and delightful experience. She felt
glad, actually glad that Cornelia was coming!
Seven o'clock! At any moment now a cab might appear bearing the
expected guest from the station. Miss Briskett crossed the room to alter
the arrangement of a vase of flowers, and as she did so, the door
opened, and Mason entered carrying a telegram upon a silver salver.
Miss Briskett tore it open, and read the following message:--
"Safe and sound. Staying night in London with friends. Sight-seeing
to-morrow morning. Be with you at five. God save the Queen!--
Cornelia."
Miss Briskett's lips tightened. She folded the orange-coloured paper
and returned it to its envelope, cleared her throat and said coldly--
"Inform Heap that my niece will not arrive until to-morrow evening,
and be good enough to serve dinner at once."
Mason's face clouded with disappointment. In the kitchen Heap banged
the saucepan-lids, and wanted to know what was the use of doing your
best in a despicable world where you never got nothing for your pains!
Mary repaired dolefully upstairs to take away the hot water, and shroud
the furniture in dust-sheets; even the tweeny felt a sudden dampening
of spirits, while in the dining-room the mistress of her house sat at her
solitary meal with anger smouldering in her heart!
A delay to the boat would, of course, have been inevitable; if Cornelia
had been so fatigued that she felt it necessary to break her journey
half-way, that would have been a disappointment pure and simple, but
that the girl had chosen to delay her arrival for her own amusement and
gratification, this was an offence indeed--a want of respect and
consideration well-nigh unforgivable. Staying in town with friends!--
Staying where?--With what friends? Doing the sights to-morrow
morning! Miss Briskett's lip curled in disdain. Then that ridiculous
ending! What would Miss Brewster, the telegraph clerk at the post-
office, think of such frivolity! In this tiny township, everyone was as

well acquainted with their neighbour's business as with their own, and
while Emily Brewster at the post-office was keenly interested in the
advent of the American visitor, Miss Briskett, in her turn, knew all
about Emily's parentage and education, the nature and peculiarities of
the diseases which she had enjoyed, and vouchsafed a patronising
interest in her prospects. It was gall and wormwood to feel sure that
Emily had laughed and made merry over a message addressed to a
Briskett, from a member of her own house!
Everyone has experienced the flatness which ensues when an expected
excitement is postponed at the last moment, leaving the hours to drag
along a slow, uneventful course. It was long since Miss Briskett had
felt so consciously lonely and depressed as at her solitary dinner that
evening. In the drawing-room, even Patience lost its wonted charm, and
she was thankful when the time arrived to sip her tumbler of hot water,
and retire to bed.
Next day it seemed somewhat flat to make the same preparations a
second time over, but as no contradictory message had been received, it
did not appear possible that a second disappointment could supervene.
The tea- table was set out with special care, and a supply of home-made
cakes placed on the three-storied brass stand. Once more Miss Briskett
donned her best gown, and sat gazing through the lace window
curtains.
At last! A cab drove up to the gate; two cabs, laden with enough
luggage for a family journeying to the seaside. The door of the first was
thrown open and there jumped out--a man! a tall, alert young man clad
in a suit of light-checked tweed, who turned and gave his hand to a girl
in blue serge, carefully assisting her to alight. They sauntered up the
path together, laughing and chattering in leisurely enjoyment; half-way
to the house the girl turned round, and stood for a moment to stare at
the view, pointing, as she did so, in frank, unabashed fashion. Then
they approached the door, held hospitably open in Mason's hand.
"Why, Aunt Soph, is that you?" cried a high, clear voice, with a
pronounced American accent, which rang strangely in the
unaccustomed ears. "This is me, anyhow, and I'm real glad to see you.

I've had a lovely ride! This is Mr Eustace C Ross, who crossed with us
in the Lucania. He's brought me right here in case I got lost, or fell over
the edge. England's sweet! I've been all over London this morning, and
we did a theatre last night. ... Aunt Soph,