The schoolroom set, with Tom and Aubrey, came home soon after, and tongues went fast with stories of roast-beef, plum-pudding, and blind-man's-buff. How the dear Meta had sent a cart to Cocksmoor to bring Cherry herself, and how many slices everybody had eaten, and how the bride's health had been drunk by the children in real wine, and how they had all played, Norman and all, and how Hector had made Blanche bold enough to extract a raisin from the flaming snap-dragon. It was not half told when Dr. May came home, and Ethel went up to dress for her dinner at Abbotstoke, Mary following to help her and continue her narration, which bade fair to entertain Margaret the whole evening.

Dr. May, Richard, and Ethel had a comfortable dark drive to the Grange, and, on arriving, found Hector deep in 'Wild Sports of the West', while Norman and Meta were sitting over the fire talking, and Mr. Rivers was resting in his library.

And when Ethel and Meta spent the time before the gentlemen came in from the dining-room, in a happy tete-a-tete, Ethel learned that the fire-light dialogue had been the pleasantest part of the whole day, and that Meta had had confided to her the existence of Decius Mus--a secret which Ethel had hitherto considered as her own peculiar property, but she supposed it was a pledge of the sisterhood, which Meta professed with all the house of May.

CHAPTER VIII.

The rest all accepted the kind invitation, And much bustle it caused in the plumed creation; Such ruffling of feathers, such pruning of coats, Such chirping, such whistling, such clearing of throats, Such polishing bills, and such oiling of pinions, Had never been known in the biped dominions.

Peacock at Home.

Etheldred was thankful for that confidence to Meta Rivers, for without it, she would hardly have succeeded in spurring Norman up to give the finishing touches to Decius, and to send him in. If she talked of the poem as the devotion of Decius, he was willing enough, and worked with spirit, for he liked the ideas, and enjoyed the expressing them, and trying to bring his lines to his notion of perfection, but if she called it the "Newdigate," or the "Prize Poem," and declared herself sure it would be successful, he yawned, slackened, leaned back in his chair, and began to read other people's poetry, which Ethel was disrespectful enough not to think nearly as good as his own.

It was completed at last, and Ethel stitched it up with a narrow red and white ribbon--the Balliol colours; and set Meta at him till a promise was extorted that he would send it in.

And, in due time, Ethel received the following note:

"My Dear Ethel,--

"My peacock bubble has flown over the house.

Tell them all about it.

Your affectionate, N. W. M."

They were too much accustomed to Norman's successes to be extraordinarily excited; Ethel would have been much mortified if the prize had been awarded to any one else, but, as it was, it came rather as a matter of course. The doctor was greatly pleased, and said he should drive round by Abbotstoke to tell the news there, and then laughed beyond measure to hear that Meta had been in the plot, saying he should accuse the little humming-bird of being a magpie, stealing secrets.

By this time the bride and bridegroom were writing that they thought of soon returning; they had spent the early spring at Paris, had wandered about in the south of France, and now were at Paris again. Flora's letters were long, descriptive, and affectionate, and she was eager to be kept fully informed of everything at home. As soon as she heard of Norman's success, she wrote a whole budget of letters, declaring that she and George would hear of no refusal; they were going to spend a fortnight at Oxford for the Commemoration, and must have Meta and Ethel with them to hear Norman's poem in the theatre.

Dr. May, who already had expressed a hankering to run up for the day and take Ethel with him, was perfectly delighted at the proposal, and so was Mr. Rivers, but the young ladies made many demurs. Ethel wanted Mary to go in her stead, and had to be told that this would not be by any means the same to the other parties--she could not bear to leave Margaret; it was a long time since there had been letters from the Alcestis, and she did not like to miss being at home when they should come; and Meta, on her side, was so unwilling to leave her father that, at last, Dr. May scolded them both for a pair of conceited, self-important damsels, who thought nothing could go on without them; and next, compared them to young birds, obliged to be shoved by force into flying.

Meta consented first, on condition that Ethel would; and Ethel found that her whole house would be greatly disappointed if she refused, so she proceeded to be grateful, and then discovered how extremely delightful the plan was. Oxford, of which she had heard so much, and which she had always wished to see! And Norman's glory--and Meta's company--nay, the very holiday, and going from home, were charms enough for a girl of eighteen, who had never been beyond Whitford in her life.

Besides, to crown all, papa promised that, if his patients would behave well, and not want him too much, he would come up for the one great day.

Mr. and Mrs. George Rivers came to Abbotstoke to collect their party.

They arrived by a railroad, whose station was nearer to Abbotstoke than to Stoneborough, therefore, instead of their visiting the High Street by the way, Dr. May, with Ethel and Mary, were invited to dine at the Grange, the first evening--a proposal, at least, as new and exciting to Mary as was the journey to Oxford to her sister.

The two girls went early, as the travellers had intended to arrive before luncheon, and, though Ethel said few words, but let Mary rattle on with a stream of conjectures and questions, her heart was full of longings for her sister, as well as of strange doubts and fears, as to the change that her new life might have made in her.

"There! there!" cried Mary. "Yes! it is Flora! Only she has her hair done in a funny way!"

Flora and Meta were both standing on the steps before the conservatory, and Mary made but one bound before she was hugging Flora. Ethel kissed her without so much violence, and then saw that Flora was looking very well and bright, more decidedly pretty and elegant than ever, and with certainly no diminution of affection; it was warmer, though rather more patronising.

"How natural you look!" was her first exclamation, as she held Mary's hand, and drew Ethel's arm into hers. "And how is Margaret?"

"Pretty well-but the heat makes her languid--"

"Is there any letter yet?"

"No--"

"I do not see any cause for alarm--letters are so often detained, but, of course, she will be anxious. Has she had pain in the back again?"

"Sometimes, but summer always does her good--"

"I shall see her to-morrow--and the Daisy. How do you all get on? Have you broken down yet, Ethel?"

"Oh! we do go on," said Ethel, smiling; "the worst thing I have done was expecting James to dress the salads with lamp-oil."

"A Greenland salad! But don't talk of oil--I have the taste still in my mouth after the Pyrennean cookery! Oh! Ethel, you would have been wild with delight in those places!"

"Snowy mountains! Are they not like a fairy-dream to you now? You must have felt at home, as a Scotchwoman's daughter."

"Think of the peaks in the sunrise! Oh! I wanted you in the pass of Roncevalles, to hear the echo of Roland's horn. And we saw the cleft made by Roland's sword in the rocks."

"Oh! how delightful--and Spain too!"

"Ay, the Isle of Pheasants, where all the conferences took place."

"Where Louis XIV. met his bride, and Francois I. sealed his treason with his empty flourish--"

"Well, don't let us fight about Francois I. now; I want to know how Tom likes Eton."

"He gets on famously. I am so glad he is in the same house with Hector."

"Mr. Ramsden--how is he?"

"No better; he has not done any duty for weeks. Tomkins and his set want to sell the next presentation, but papa hopes to stave that off, for there is a better set than usual in the Town Council this year."

"Cocksmoor? And how are our friends the muses? I found a note from the secretary telling me that I am elected again. How have they behaved?"

"Pretty well," said Ethel. "Mrs. Ledwich has been away, so we have had few meetings, and have been pretty quiet, except for an uproar about the mistress beating that Franklin's girl--and what do you think I did, Flora? I made bold to say the woman should show her to papa, to see if she had done her any harm, and he found that it was all a fabrication from one end to the other. So it ended in the poor girl being expelled, and Mary and I have her twice a week, to see if there is any grace in her."

"To reward her!" said Flora. "That is always your way--"

"Why, one cannot give the poor thing quite up," said Ethel.

"You will manage the ladies at last!" cried Flora.

"Not while Mrs. Ledwich is there!"

"I'll cope with her! But, come, I want you in my room--"