She went to church with her brother, and in the afternoon their uncle, Colonel Craven, and his wife duly arrived at the Court to spend their annual week at the family mansion, and Madge took her brother’s advice and refrained from saying a word to either of them on the subject of her dream. Indeed, she had so much to think of and so much to do during the week, she had no time to give to anything so immaterial as a dream, however interesting it might be to herself.
On the last morning of the stay of Colonel and Mrs Craven at Craven Court, the former received a letter which he tossed across the breakfast-table to Charlie.
“Funny, isn’t it?” he said. “We were talking about wild-duck-shooting no later than last night, and here’s a letter from Jack Tremaine telling me that he is taking over his cousin’s place for six months and promising me some good sport if I go to him for a week in January. You will see that he suggests that you should be of the party: he asks if you are here. See what he says about the ducks.”
“Who is his cousin?” inquired Charlie, “and where is his place?”
“His cousin is a chap named Clifford, and his place is in Dorsetshire--on the coast--Barmouth Manor it is called, and I know that it’s famous for its duck-shooting. Tremaine will no doubt write to you.”
“Where has the cousin gone, that the place is available for Jack Tremaine?” asked Charlie.
“Turn over the page and you’ll see what he says about the Cliffords,” replied Colonel Craven.
Charlie found on the last leaf half a dozen lines on the point in question. Jack Tremaine said that Mrs Clifford was not satisfied as to the health of her son, and was going abroad with him during the first week in January.
“I should like to have a go at the ducks,” said Charlie Craven, handing back the letter. “I suppose there is a duck-punt or two at the place?”
“You may be sure of that,” said his uncle. “Young Clifford is a good sportsman, I believe, but I have never met him. I’ll write to Tremaine to-day telling him that you are at home. I’m sure he means to invite you.”
All doubt on this point was removed by the arrival two days later of an invitation from Mr Tremaine to Charlie Craven for a fortnight’s duck-shooting at Barmouth Manor, and he enclosed a letter from his wife to Madge expressing the hope that she would be able to accompany her brother.