So no more passed on the
subject till it became necessary to take her outfit in hand, and he
also wished to take her to Beechcroft, that the old family home which
he regarded with fresh tenderness might be impressed on her memory.
Then, though she never durst directly oppose the fate which he destined
for her, she surprised him by a violent burst of tears and sobbing, and
an entreaty that he would not take her away from Aunt Lily and Mysie a
moment sooner than could be helped.
She clung to everything, even to the guinea-pigs, and she was the first
in the Easter holidays to beg for the 'Thorn Fortress.' Indeed, Mysie
was a little shocked at her grief, as disloyal and unfilial. 'One
ought not to mind going anywhere with one's father,' she said; 'we all
thought it a great honour for Phyllis and Alethea.'
'They are grown up!' said Dolores, 'and Aunt Lily does get into one so!
Oh, don't say there's Aunt Phyllis. I hate the very name of her.'
'She must be nice,' said Mysie, 'Whenever the 'grown-ups' are pleased
with me they say I am getting like her, as if it was the best thing one
could be.'
'But I don't want Mysie old and grown up, I want my Mysie now, as you
are!--And you'll forget and leave off writing, like Maude Sefton.'
'Never!' cried Mysie. 'Eight across the world you will always be my
own twin cousin.'
The wishes of the girl were so far fulfilled that Lady Merrifield took
her to London to provide her outfit, and Mysie accompanied them.
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