Mr. Leicester was in the Department of North American PrehistoricRemains, and had a jar of earth before him which he was examining withclosest interest. "Here's a bit of charred bone," he was saying eagerlyto a wise-looking old gentleman, "and here's a funeral bead--just as Iexpected. This proves my theory of the sacrificial--Why, Betty, what'sthe matter?" and he looked startled for a moment. "A telegram?"
"It was so very important, you see, papa," said Betty.
"I thought it was bad news from Tideshead," said Mr. Leicester, lookingup at her with a smile after he had read it. "Well, my dear, that's verynice, and very important too," he added, with a fine twinkle in hiseyes. "I shall be going out for a bit of luncheon presently, and I'llsend the answer with great pleasure."
Betty's cheeks were brighter than ever, as if a rosy cloud of joy wereshining through. "Now that I'm here, I'll look at the arrowheads; mayn'tI, papa?" she asked, with great self-possession. "I should like to seeif I can find one like mine--I mean my best white one that I found onthe river-bank last summer."
Papa nodded, and turned to his jar again. "You may let Pagot go home atone o'clock," he said, "and come back to find me here, and we'll go andhave luncheon together. I was thinking of coming home early to get you.We've a house to look at, and it's dull weather for what I wish to dohere at the museum. Clear sunshine is the only possible light for thissort of work," he added, turning to the old gentleman, who nodded; andBetty nodded sagely, and skipped away with Pagot, to search among thearrowheads.
She found many white quartz arrowpoints and spearheads like her owntreasure. Pagot thought them very dull, and was made ratheruncomfortable by the Indian medicine-masks and war-bonnets andevil-looking war-clubs, and openly called it a waste of time for any oneto have taken trouble to get all that heathen rubbish together. Suchsavages and their horrid ways were best forgotten by decent folks, ifPagot might be so bold as to say so. But presently it was luncheon time;and the good soul cheerfully departed, while Betty joined her father,and waited for him as still as a mouse for half an hour, while he andthe scientific old gentleman reluctantly said their last words andseparated. She had listened to a good deal of their talk about altarfires, and the ceremonies that could be certainly traced in a handful ofearth from the site of a temple in the mounds of a buried city; but allher thoughts were of Lady Mary and the pleasures of the next week. Shelooked again at the telegram, which was much nicer than most telegrams.It was so nice of Lady Mary to have said _dear_ in it--just as if shewere talking; people did not often say _dear_ in a message. "Perhapssome of her guests can't come; but then, everybody likes to be asked toDanesly," Betty thought. "And I wonder if I shall dine at table with theguests; I never have. At any rate, I shall see Lady Mary often and bewith papa. It is perfectly lovely! I can give her the Indian basket Ibrought her, now, before the sweet grass is all dry."
It was a great delight to be asked to the holiday party; many a grownperson would be thankful to take Betty's place. For was not Lady Mary avery great lady indeed, and one of the most charming women inEngland?--a famous hostess and assembler of really delightful people?
"I am going to Danesly on the seventeenth," said Betty to herself, withsatisfaction.