"Oh, dear, how tiresome!" said Clare, still in her sweet gentle
voice, not at all as if she was angry, only expressing an obvious
truth. Molly felt very guilty and very unhappy. Clare went on, with a
shade of asperity in her tone: "You see, I don't know what to do with
you here if you don't eat enough to enable you to walk home. And I've
been out for these three hours trapesing about the grounds till I'm
as tired as can be, and missed my lunch and all." Then, as if a new
idea had struck her, she said,--"You lie back in that seat for a few
minutes, and try to eat the bunch of grapes, and I'll wait for you,
and just be eating a mouthful meanwhile. You are sure you don't want
this chicken?"
Molly did as she was bid, and leant back, picking languidly at the
grapes, and watching the good appetite with which the lady ate up the
chicken and jelly, and drank the glass of wine. She was so pretty and
so graceful in her deep mourning, that even her hurry in eating, as
if she was afraid of some one coming to surprise her in the act, did
not keep her little observer from admiring her in all she did.
"And now, darling, are you ready to go?" said she, when she had eaten
up everything on the tray. "Oh, come; you have nearly finished your
grapes; that's a good girl. Now, if you will come with me to the
side entrance, I will take you up to my own room, and you shall lie
down on the bed for an hour or two; and if you have a good nap your
headache will be quite gone."
So they set off, Clare carrying the empty tray, rather to Molly's
shame; but the child had enough work to drag herself along, and was
afraid of offering to do anything more. The "side entrance" was
a flight of steps leading up from a private flower-garden into a
private matted hall, or ante-room, out of which many doors opened,
and in which were deposited the light garden-tools and the bows and
arrows of the young ladies of the house. Lady Cuxhaven must have seen
their approach, for she met them in this hall as soon as they came
in.
"How is she now?" she asked; then glancing at the plates and glasses,
she added, "Come, I think there can't be much amiss! You're a good
old Clare, but you should have let one of the men fetch that tray in;
life in such weather as this is trouble enough of itself."