Lippa | Page 6

finds herself next the eldest Miss Boothly who is saying, 'I am so pleased you could come,' giving Lippa's arm a little squeeze at the same time, 'I think we shall have a nice day, don't you, and you know all the people?'
'All except the man at the further end.'
'Oh! don't you know him,' says Miss Boothly. 'He's Lord Helmdon; he has come in the place of Mr Dalrymple, who at the last moment wrote to say he could not come, and so we asked Lord Helmdon, he's so nice; we always fall back upon him when anyone fails us.'
Chubby does not look as if he had been fallen back upon by any means, for apparently he is keeping up the spirits of the party, for they are all in shrieks of laughter. Captain Harkness eyes Lippa from the distance, and when they reach their destination prepares to assist her to alight, when Lord Helmdon clumsily treads on her dress just as she is about to jump down on the platform; no great damage is done, and Chubby, profuse in apologies, wins Miss Seaton's heart by the plain distress depicted on his countenance, and a safety pin which he produces and with which he fastens up the torn gathers, and before they come to the river, they are on quite friendly terms, much to the disgust of Harkness, who has been attacked by his hostess's youngest daughter.
Up the river they go, dividing into three parties; Mrs Boothly, who has placed herself next Mabel, warm, and decidedly sleepy, tries in vain to feel happy in seeing her dear girls amused, and discusses the management of children with Mrs Seaton. And the day wears on, Helmdon making himself decidedly agreeable to everyone. Lippa amuses herself to a certain extent, but she becomes irritated by the assiduous attentions of Captain Harkness, to whom she has taken a violent dislike. She gets more and more out of patience with him and at length is almost rude. It appears to have no effect upon him whatever, for like a great many other people he has a very good opinion of himself, and that this girl is not pleased with his attentions never enters his well-curled head. Philippa has taken his fancy and as he has just made up his mind that it is time to enter the blissful (?) state of matrimony, she seems to him to be the exact person to make his wife; money makes no difference, for he is one of those fortunate individuals who has almost more than he knows what to do with. That Miss Seaton will have nothing to do with him, has not crossed his mind yet.
The party disperse again at the station pouring into Mrs Boothly's ear many sweet sentences, which had she been listening would have made her think that going up the river in a boat and lunching on the bank was almost heaven upon earth; but poor dear lady she is longing to get home, feeling painfully conscious of the shapeliness of her shoes; and the pain thereby caused, absorbs all her faculties for the present: but when the above mentioned articles are removed, she thinks with pleasure how much everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, and she makes up her mind to have a similar day; only, made more pleasant to her by large and shapeless boots. Wise Mrs Boothly--
Garden-parties, balls, dinner-parties, follow each other in rather monotonous succession, and Lippa is beginning to tire of them, she has been to three balls where a certain young man has been conspicuous by his absence; and it is almost a week since he has dropped in to tea, and Miss Seaton misses him more than she will own to herself. She is feeling out of sorts this afternoon and has betaken herself to the back drawing-room, which is only curtained off from the front, leaving Mabel and Lady Dadford in earnest conversation.
Presently the door opens, and Ponsonby comes in. 'All alone,' says he. 'I thought you always had some one worshipping at your shrine.'
'Indeed, you are much mistaken,' replies she laughing, 'but I didn't know you were in London--'
'I only came back this morning--'
'Mabel and Lady Dadford are in there,' interrupts Philippa indifferently, pointing to the front room.
'Well, unless I am disturbing you, I will remain here,' says Paul, 'there are some letters I must write,' and going to the table he proceeds to hunt for paper and pens; Lippa goes on reading her book, and a silence of a few minutes ensues.
Then he says, 'What wretched pens you do keep--'
'Yes,' replies she, 'they are rather bad, but I think you will find some others in the right hand drawer--have you ever read this?' holding up her volume.
'The "Epic of Hades," yes, parts of it