Lippa | Page 8

enters the other room. Nevertheless she gives
him the benefit of a lovely little smile when he goes away, which
makes him settle at once as to whether he goes to the Dadfords or not.
And of course he is the first person Lippa sees on arriving there, and
who shall say that it does not cause her pleasure.
CHAPTER IV
'The fine fat bulls, the dear little sheep, The fat piggy-wiggy wiggies all
in a heap, The beautiful Moo cows all in a row, Jolly fine fun at the
cattle show.'
Such a lovely day it is; the sun shining forth in all its glory, casting a
touch of gold over everything, while a hush reigns supreme; that lovely
stillness that hangs over the earth in the early morning before the work
of the day begins.
Lippa scarcely took in what the ancestral home of the Dadfords was
like, when she arrived last night, but waking early she dresses hastily in
order to survey the surrounding country, an outing before breakfast she
delights in, when all the world seems fresh and clean, and the humdrum
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