When Sir Hugh had shooting parties, she always carried the luncheon to the sportsmen, driving through the wood in her pony-carriage; when her husband began to return his neighbors' hospitality, she surprised him by making a perfect little hostess, and never seemed too shy to chat in her pretty, modest manner to his guests. All Sir Hugh's masculine friends fell in love with her, and the ladies petted and made much of her.
Fay was very grateful to them for their kindness, but she liked best to be alone in the old Hall.
She had a hundred sources of amusement; she would follow Mrs. Heron from room to room, listening to her stories of many a dead Redmond; or coax her to show the old treasures of tapestry and lace; or she would wander through the gardens and woods with her favorite Nero and Sir Hugh's noble St. Bernard, Pierre.
She made acquaintance with every man, woman, and child about the place, and all the animals besides; when the spring came she knew all the calves and lambs by name, all the broods of chickens and ducklings; she visited the stables and the poultry-yards till every helper and boy about the premises knew her bright face well, and were ready to vow that a sweeter-spoken creature never lived than the young Lady Redmond.
And she would prattle to Hugh all through the long dinner, beguiling him by her quaint bright stories; and when he went into the library--she never could coax him after that first evening into her "blue nestie"--she would follow him and sit herself at his feet with her work or book, perfectly content if he sometimes stroked her hair, or with a sudden feeling of compunction stooped over her and kissed her brow, for he was always very gentle with her, and Fay adored him from the depths of her innocent heart.
With hands so flower-like, soft and fair, She caught at life with words as sweet As first spring violets.
No, it was not a bad room, that room of Mrs. Watkins's, seen just now in the November dusk, with its bright fire and neat hearth, with the kettle gossiping deliciously to itself; there was at once something comfortable and homelike about it; especially as the red curtains were drawn across the two windows that look down into High Street, and the great carts that had been rumbling underneath them since daybreak had given place to the jolting of lighter vehicles which passed and repassed at intervals.