It was late, and June had
come in, and the weight of London air was oppressing him and making
him weaker, and his mother, anxious to get him into sea air, had made
no fresh engagements. It was a surprise to meet him at All Saints on
St. Peter's day.
"Come with us, Infanta," he said, pausing at the door of the
carriage. "I am to have my drive early to-day, as the ladies are
going to this great garden-party."
Sydney said she would walk home with Mrs. Brownlow, and be taken up
when Babie was set down.
Fordham gave the word to go to the binder's.
"I should have thought you had better have gone into some clearer
air," said his mother, for he looked very languid.
"There will be time for a turn in the park afterwards," he said; "and
the books were to be ready yesterday, if there is any faith in
binders."
The books were ready, and Fordham insisted on having them deposited
on the seat beside him, in spite of all offers of sending them; and a
smiling—-
"Oh, Duke, your name should have been Babie," from his mother.
They then drove to Cecil's house, where Mrs. Evelyn went in to let
Esther know her hour of starting; but where Cecil came running down,
and putting his head into the carriage, said—-
"Come in, mamma; here's the housemaid been bullying Essie, and she
wants you to help her.
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