‘Rather hard to say. Who is the true heroine of that delightful novel _Ivanhoe_?—as the lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouche are referred to.’
‘Rebecca, of course! Thackeray, in his inimitable ending of the novel, absolutely destroys Rowena, who settled down as a worthy mate for the doltish Athelstane.’
‘_Now_, look here, Reggie!’ said Eric impressively; ‘if once we get fairly started on Sir Walter, we shall never get to the garden party, or the great Hexham Hall revels, or, indeed, anywhere else in the kingdom of fact and practical politics. Hadn’t we all better “split and squander,” as they used to do in the old Border days, when they had managed some particularly lawless deed of murder and rapine? We shall have my mother reading the Riot Act (which she can do on occasions, mild as she looks). I wouldn’t presume to dictate to Miss Aylmer, as an honoured guest, entitled to respectful deference, but would merely suggest that an adjournment to the scene of action, as volunteers for the duties of preparation, would be safer for her—indeed, for all of _us_.’
‘Come with me, Corie,’ said Vanda. ‘Hermie and I will protect you; and, indeed, there is some sense in what Eric says—rarely as it happens to be the case.’
They were just in time to be detailed for active service. Of course the caterer-general had organised his forces, and was directing the movements of his officers, not to mention the rank and file, of whom there appeared to be hundreds. Still, it was necessary to have aides-de-camp and attachés between the controlling powers and the heads of departments, and for this important service the young people—eager, intelligent, and alert—answered admirably. To be sure, they had additional assistance, which could hardly be overestimated. This contingent had arrived by train while they had been discussing literary questions, and had at once been requisitioned by Mrs. Banneret. Captain the Honourable Jack Aylmer, of the Guards, the eldest son, heir to the title and lordship of Hexham, if but to little else, was a steady, hard-working young officer, devoted to his profession, who had been wounded in South Africa, and had gained the proud privilege of having had the D.S.O. decoration attached to his uniform by His Majesty King Edward in person, the while Lord Roberts looked on approvingly. The sailor brother, Lieutenant the Honourable Falkland Aylmer, whose ship the _Palmyra_ had happened to get over from Malta about that time, dashed into action at once, and proved himself to be the right man in the right place. Who does not know how the ‘handy man’ can multiply his inventive talents, and communicate his mesmeric quality at pinch of need? So when, on that wondrous morning, the mid-summer sun, all goldenly defiant of meadow mists and woodland shadows, irradiated the scene, Hermione, Vanda, and their young friends were satisfied, even exultant, though occasionally tremulous lest anything important had been overlooked.