It was a very tired and grubby little party who gathered round the dinner-table, which to-day was set in the servants’ hall; but Aunt Dora’s pleased appreciation of their efforts made up for all the trouble; and after a quiet hour spent in the schoolroom over story-books they were quite fresh again at three o’clock, when Mary came up to help Claude to dress, and brush Isobel’s hair for her and tie her sash.
‘I wish we had Etons,’ said Vivian to his brother when they were alone in their own room, turning over his summer suit of dark-green cloth with rather a dissatisfied air. ‘I was in Ralph’s room washing my hands before dinner, and he has a proper suit, with gray trousers and a short coat with a peak at the back, just like those Charlie Strangeways had last summer.’
‘That’s because he’s at school,’ said Ronald, who was splashing away vigorously at the washhand-stand. ‘Probably a lot of the fellows will have Etons on; I know they wear them in London a lot. But I think these green suits of ours are rather nice; besides, it doesn’t matter what boys wear, and mother has promised to get us Etons for next summer. I say, won’t Isobel look a duck in that stunning white frock, with that pale-blue sash? I hope Dorothy will grow up as pretty as she is.’
‘Isobel is just perfect,’ said Vivian emphatically. ‘I hope Aunt Dora will let her come down to us again in spring for the Easter holidays; she will make the Strangeways look astonished. They were not at home the last time she came. They always laugh at girls, but they won’t laugh at her when they see how she plays cricket. She is not like the Lister girls, who daren’t catch a ball in case it hurts their fingers. I only wish Ralph were like her,’ he added, going back to the vexed question of clothes. ‘You should have seen his face when I told him that we had only our last year’s summer suits to wear. He muttered something about “country cousins,” and offered to lend me his last year’s suit. It is too little for him, but he said it would just do for me.’
‘And I hope you snubbed him well for his impudence. I tell you what, Vivi, he is our cousin, and we must be civil to him because of Aunt Dora and Uncle Walter and Claude and Isobel; but he is a cad, an out-and-out cad, with his airs and his conceit. So don’t let me find you copying him, or I’ll give you a good licking. Wear his old clothes indeed! You had better try it.’