‘All good things must come to an end,’ says the venerable adage, and the Hexham Hall garden party was no exception to the ancient saw. The summer was now at its height, the next change would be a decadent one, after which the leaves would fall, and people begin to talk about autumn winds, declining days, and other depressing subjects. Hence it was necessary to arrange for whatever plan of travel the family decided to carry out before winter was upon them, with its over-full programme of dances, dinners, hunting fixtures, and other absolutely necessary functions. The need for travel began to obtrude itself. Young men and maidens, with their attendant parents and guardians (for such indeed, nowadays, is the order in which the migration of families must be described), began to talk of guides, alpenstocks, and other foreign necessaries, the glories of the ascent of the Matterhorn, or the panorama from the Rigi.
However, after a full and exhaustive survey of plans and projects, the decision was practically unanimous in favour of Britain. So much had been dared and done during the present year, that it was agreed not to tempt the chances of foreign travel until a peaceful interval of restful rambles in the ancestral mother-land had made them fully conversant with all the scenes of interest, beauty, and historic fame, with the leading characteristics of which their reading had made them familiar.
The party of travel was to be commanded by Mr. and Mrs. Banneret: efficient, conventional chaperonage being, of course, indispensable. It was many years since the parents had enjoyed the opportunity of a quiet progress through historic scenes, which their general culture fitted them so eminently to enjoy. When they had the leisure, they had been without the pecuniary facilities, without which tourists are necessarily hampered. Now they were in possession of both. They left Hexham, therefore, with the intention of enjoying to the fullest extent the fortunate combination, which comes so rarely in this troubled life of ours. The Hexham girls, titled and untitled, numbered three—Hermione, Corisande, and Vanda. Two of these were abbreviated to Corie and Hermie for the greater convenience of intimate friendly converse, Vanda pleading that her name was sufficiently short, and that ‘Van’ sounded rather Dutch. It was resolved to reserve this weighty matter for the test of experience and time.