The Heiress of Wyvern Court | Page 8

"This is Madame Giche--spelt G-i-c-h-e--and her two grand-nieces; a
queer party, all of them," said Oscar, still leading on. "This isn't her
place: she can't live at her own place, they say, all about some trouble
she's had; and so she took the Owl's Nest of Sir Hubert Larch, who
never lives there, on lease."
"Are we intruding here?" inquired Inna.
"Oh, no; there is a right of way: that is, madame gives it, and people
take it. Come on."
He had the grace to raise his hat to the party as they passed them by,
and anon they were out of the park, and on a well-worn road. Here the
sound of wheels greeted them, and a donkey and cart came driving
up--Dick Gregory charioteer, and a girl of about Inna's age seated in the
bed of the cart behind him.
"Why, little friend," cried the boy, recognising Inna, "this is a happy

meeting!" and down he sprang, and seized her hand with a boyish grip.
"How d'ye do, Willett?" this to Oscar, who returned the salutation.
"Now you must be introduced to Trapper. Here, Trapper," said Dick,
turning to the donkey-cart.
"Don't be silly, Dick," cried the pretty little maiden. "You know I'm not
Trapper: at least, only to you, who call me Gin and then Trap and
Trapper. My name is Jenny;" and down she sprang to Inna's side.
"And I am Inna."
"Yes; Dick has told me your name."
"And how is your kitten?" Inna liked the pretty, free, fair-haired,
fair-faced girl.
"Oh, first-rate, thank you, isn't she, Dick?" said she, appealing to her
brother, who was just settling with Oscar.
"Oh yes! We'll just manage a morning of it in the woods; you can show
your cousin Black Hole another time. Isn't what?" he questioned of his
sister.
"Isn't Snowdrop first-rate?"
"Rather," returned he, with a nod at Inna, which made her blush and
laugh.
"I'm glad she's well. And so you call her Snowdrop?"
"Yes; and what do you think of our donkey? We call him Rameses:
that's Dick's choice of a name."
"He's a beautiful creature," returned Inna, stroking the animal's wise old
head.
"Yes," replied Dick, "I'm a lover of old names, so I thought I'd go back

to the Pharaohs. Not a bad idea, was it? though no compliment, I
daresay, to the old fogies."
"No," laughed Oscar; "but never mind about compliments for dead and
gone fogies."
"And what of the fogies of this generation?" inquired ready Dick.
"The same--never mind."
"But come, we must make hay while the sun shines. In with you, you
two girls, into the cart," said Dick, which they did, Jenny helping Inna.
Then up sprang the charioteer, Oscar beside him; crack went the whip,
and off they drove like the wind.
That nutting expedition was like a fairy dream to London-reared Inna;
the lads showed her a squirrel or two, a dormouse not yet gone to its
winter snooze, in its mossy bed-chamber. A snake wriggled past them,
which made her shudder; frogs and toads leaped here and there in dark
places. Then, oh, the whir and whisper of the autumn wind among the
trees! the lights and shadows! Oh, for the magic hand of her artist
father to make them hers for ever in a picture for her bedroom! But the
delight of a morning's nutting must come to an end--so did theirs; the
sandwiches demolished--share and share, as Oscar put it--they
bethought themselves of dinner and the road leading thereto, so once
more they were on their backward way, and parting company.
"Good-bye, mademoiselle!" cried Dick, as Inna stood at Oscar's side,
after she had kissed Jenny, and the two had vowed a girls' eternal
friendship. Then away went the donkey and cart, and our young people
hastened home, just in time for dinner. A meal silent as breakfast was
dinner, so far as they were concerned, for Mr. Barlow and the doctor
kept a learned conversation high above their heads all the time--so
Oscar said; and after it was over the boy vanished, nobody knew where.
As for Inna, she roamed in the orchard all the afternoon in a dream of
beauty, eating rosy apples, followed by tea--she and Mr. Barlow
alone--she making the toast and managing the urn: a living proof of
what can be done by trying, so the surgeon told her. Then he and the

doctor went out, and Inna crept out to the kitchen, to wonder with Mrs.
Grant where Oscar was, and what was keeping him.
"No good, Miss Inna; that boy'll go to the dogs if somebody don't take
him in hand. You try, dearie, what you can do with him," said the
housekeeper.
"I!" cried astonished Inna. She try what she could do with a big boy