'
In fact, she hoped that Constance, who had told of her hatred to these
great functions and willingness to do anything to avoid them, would
avail herself of the excuse; but though the young lady must have seen
her go, she never attempted to follow; and Dolores, feeling her own
room dull, came down again to find the drawing-room empty, and on the
next gleam of sunshine, she decided on going to seek her friend.
What a hum and buzz pervaded the stable-yard! There was a coach-house
with all its great doors open, and the rows of girls awakening from
their first shy and hungry silence into laughter and talking. There
were big urns and fountains steaming, active hands filling cups, all
the cousins, all their congeners, and four or five clergymen acting as
waiters, Aunt Adeline pouring out tea a the upper table for any
associate who had time to swallow it, and Constance Hacket talking away
to a sandy-haired curate, without so much as seeing her friend! Only
Wilfred, at sight of his cousin again, getting up a violent mock cough,
declaring that he thought she had gone to bed with congealed lungs or
else Brown Titus, as the old women called it. His mother, however,
heard the cough--which, indeed, was too remarkable a sound not to
attract any one--and with a short, sharp word to him to take care, she
put Dolores down under Aunt Ada's wing, and provided her with a lovely
peach and a delicious Bath bun. Constance just looked up and nodded,
saying, 'You dear little thing, I couldn't think what was become of
you,' and then went on with her sandy curate, about--what was it?--
Dolores know not, only that it seemed very interesting, and she was
left out of it.
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