Visitors were announced.  The gentlemen came from the dining-room.  Mr. Bernard and Margaret appeared from the rose-garden.  So did some of the little girls, and invited Bessie down the steps.  There was a general hum of voices and polite laughter.  More visitors, more conversation, more effort.  Bessie began to feel tired of the restraint, and looked up to her grandfather, who stood in the doorway talking to Margaret.  The next minute he came to her, and said, with as much consideration as if she were a grown-up person, “You have had enough of this, Elizabeth.  It is time we were returning to Beechhurst.”

Margaret understood.  “You wish to go?  Come, then; I will take you to my room to put on your hat,” said she.

They escaped unnoticed except by Lady Latimer.  She followed them for a hasty minute, and began to say, “Margaret I have been thinking that Bessie Fairfax will do very well to take Winny’s place as bridesmaid next week, since Winny cannot possibly come.”

“Oh no, no, no!” cried Bessie, clasping her hands in instant, pleading alarm.

Margaret laughed and bade her hush.  “Nobody contradicts Aunt Olympia,” she said in a half whisper.

“I will speak to Mr. Fairfax and arrange it at once,” Lady Latimer added, and disappeared to carry out her sudden intention.

Bessie reiterated her prayer to be left alone.  “You will do very well.  You are very nice,” rejoined Margaret, not at all understanding her objections.  “White over blue and blue bonnets are the bridesmaids’ colors.  My cousin Winny has caught the measles.  Her dress will fit you, but Aunt Olympia’s maid will see to all that.  You must not refuse me.”

When they went down stairs Bessie found that her grandfather had accepted for her Lady Latimer’s invitation, and that he had also accepted for himself an invitation to the wedding.  Nor yet were the troubles of the day over.

“Are you going to walk?” said Mr. Wiley, coming out into the hall.  “Then I shall have much pleasure in walking with you.  Our roads are the same.”

Bessie’s dismay was so evident as to be ludicrous.  Mr. Wiley was either very forgiving or very pachydermatous.  Lady Latimer kissed her, and whispered a warning “Take care!” and she made a sign of setting a watch on her lips.

“So you will not have to be a teacher, after all, Bessie?” the judicious rector took occasion to say the moment they were clear of Fairfield.  Mr. Fairfax listened.  Bessie felt hot and angry:  what need was there to inflict this on her grandfather?  “Was it a dressmaker or a school-mistress Lady Latimer last proposed to make of you?  I forget,” said Mr. Wiley with an air of guileless consideration as he planted his thorn.

“I never heard that there was any idea of dressmaking:  I am not fond of my needle,” said Bessie curtly.

“Yes, there was.  Her ladyship spoke of it to Mrs. Wiley.  We hoped that you might be got into Madame Michaud’s establishment at Hampton to learn the business.  She is first-class.  My wife patronizes her.”