Lippa | Page 8

business of life is barely begun.
Passing down the wide oak staircase she comes across a friendly housemaid who shows her the way through a conservatory to the garden, such a lovely garden it is, with its broad walks, its green velvety lawns and slopes, and its masses of old-fashioned dew beladen flowers, the perfume of which fills the morning air. Her spirits rise as she wanders on, drinking in with delight the surrounding beauty, so absorbed is she in it that she forgets there is such a person as Jimmy Dalrymple. Quack, quack, quack, go the ducks as she approaches the lake on which they disport themselves, and gazes down at the sky therein reflected and at her own image. But she is not admiring her youthful face and the curly golden hair that stands like a halo round it. No, she is sunk in a dream; the morning has called forth her greatest aspirations; the striving after the unattainable; that comes to us all sometime or other, when we feel that truly life is worth living, and that there is something beyond, so great that we cannot grasp it, but we feel it is there producing a great speechless longing within us while our hearts throb and our pulses stir till we could cry for joy.
Such a state as this Lippa has reached, when she is suddenly brought down from the elevated height to which her mind has soared, to the outward circumstances of life, by the squeaking of a window which is suddenly opened; she is so close to the house, that on looking up she recognises the brown head that is thrust out for a moment. 'Tis enough; the spell has been broken and she becomes aware that breakfast would be a very acceptable thing, so she wends her way back to the house. Of course everyone is full of the cattle show and the merits of Herefords, short horns, Devons and Kerrys are discussed together with Jersey creamers and separators. Most of the guests are old and uninteresting, and intend leaving on the following day to make room for the younger folk who can dance.
Dalrymple and Philippa are the only young people at present, besides, of course, Lady Anne and Chubby.
'I've ordered the dog-cart,' says the latter, in the course of breakfast, to Lippa, who is sitting next him, 'because I thought we might leave the old people to go by themselves. I've got an awfully good animal, which I should like you to see, what! My sister and Dalrymple will come too, and we can go where we please. That is to say unless, perhaps, you would prefer to drive in state in the landau. What!'
'No, indeed,' says Lippa, laughing.
'You're wise, I think,' replies Lord Helmdon. 'You don't know what my respected parent is like at a show, everything must be commented upon. I went with him once,--didn't get away for hours, and I said to myself--never again. By ourselves we can come and go just as we please. By-the-bye, mother,' he goes on, turning to Lady Dadford, 'I suppose you've asked the Lippingcotts to the ball. I met him yesterday, but he didn't say anything about it, eh what!'
'I really don't remember; have we, Anne?' says her ladyship.
Lady Anne produces a piece of paper whereon the names of the invited guests are inscribed, glances down it, and says 'No.'
'How dreadful.'
'It's a pity,' says Anne.
'Not too late yet,' suggests Chubby. 'Little Mrs Lippingcott is so awfully pretty and dances quite beautifully. It would be a shame if she wasn't asked.'
'Well; I will write now if you like,' says his mother, ready to do anything her 'dear' boy wishes. 'They only came back a week ago, I suppose, that is how they were forgotten.'
'And if I see them I'll say something pretty that will make up, what!'
'Do you really think you could?' says Dalrymple, from the other side of the table.
'Don't doubt it for a moment,' replies Chubby, 'Miss Seaton I know will verify my statement.'
When all the older folk have been packed off, the dog-cart appears and with it the 'awfully good animal,' which of course has to be admired, and viewed from all points, before the owner sees fit to start. Lippa, of course, has the place of honour, by the driver, much to Jimmy's disgust. There is no need to go into details of the show, all of which are more or less alike, with dogs of all sizes and breeds, barking in different keys, pigs grunting and squeaking, horses neighing, cows mooing, cocks crowing, ducks quacking; boys yelling out the price of catalogues, men requesting people to 'walk up,' and inspect their wares, which are all warranted to be the very best of their kind; and besides all this two brass bands