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.

Down came the rain, a hopeless downpour, and there was a consultation
among the elders, some laughing, some doubtful looks, and at last
Harry, with Macrae and one of the curates, disappeared. Then grace was
sung, and speeches followed--one by the rector, Mr. Leadbitter,
fatherly and prosy;--a paper read by the Branch Secretary, about
affairs in general; and a very amusing speech by Miss Mohun, full of
anecdotes of example and warning. 'You know,' she said, 'all the
school story-books end--when the grown up books marry their people--
with the good girl going out to service under her young lady, and there