The Princess of the School | Page 6

heads of the establishment would be absent, and the younger generation
had the place to themselves. For the next eight hours they could do
practically as they pleased.
Everard stood for a moment thinking. He did not reveal quite all that
passed through his mind, but the first instalment was sufficient for the
family.
"We'll get out the touring car, take some lunch with us, and have a
joy-ride."
Five delighted faces smiled their appreciation.
"Oh, Everard! Dare we?" Dulcie's objection was consciously faint.
"Why not? When Grandfather's away, I consider I've a right to take his
place and use the car if I want. I'm master here in his absence! I'll make
it all right with him; don't you girls alarm yourselves! Tear off and put

on your coats, and tell Atkins to pack us a basket of lunch, and to put
some coffee in the thermos flasks."
With Everard willing to assume the full responsibility the girls could
not resist such a tempting offer, while the younger boys were, of course,
only too ready to follow where their elders led. Elton, the groom, made
some slight demur when Everard went down to the motor-house and
began to get out the big touring-car, but the boy behaved with such
assurance that he concluded he must be acting with his grandfather's
permission. Moreover, Elton was in charge of the horses, and not the
cars, and Milner, the chauffeur, who might reasonably have raised
objections, was away driving his master.
The cook, who perhaps considered it was no business of hers to offer
remonstrances, and that the house would be quieter without the young
folks, hastily packed a picnic hamper and filled the thermos flasks. A
rejoicing crew carried them outside and stowed them in the car.
It seemed a delightful adventure to go off in this way entirely on their
own. There was some slight wrangling over seats, but Everard settled it
in his lofty fashion.
"You'll sit where I tell you. I'll have Lilias in front, and the rest of you
may pack in behind. If you don't like it, you can stop at home. No, I'm
not going to have you kids interfering here, so you needn't think it."
Everard had been taught by the chauffeur to drive, and could manage a
car quite tolerably well. He possessed any amount of confidence, which
is a good or bad quality according to circumstances. He ran the large
touring "Daimler" successfully through the park, and turned her out at
the great iron gateway on to the highroad. Everybody was in the
keenest spirits. It was a lovely day, wonderfully mild for January, and
the sunshine was so pleasant that they hardly needed the thick fur rugs.
There seemed a hint of spring in the air; already hazel catkins hung
here and there in the hedgerows, thrushes and robins were singing
cheerily, and wayside cottages were covered with the blossom of the
yellow jessamine. It was a joy to spin along the good smooth highroad
in the luxurious car. Everard was a quick driver, and kept a pace which

sometimes exceeded the speed limit. Fortunately his brothers and
sisters were not nervous, or they might have held their breath as he
dashed round corners without sounding his horn, pelted down hills, and
on several occasions narrowly avoided colliding with farm carts. A
reckless boy of seventeen, without much previous experience, does not
make the most careful of motorists. As a matter of fact it was the first
time Master Everard had driven without the chauffeur at his elbow, and,
though he got on very well, his performance was not unattended with
risks.
Towards one o'clock the crew at the back began to clamor for lunch,
and to suggest a halt when some suitable spot should be reached. The
difficulty was to find a place, for they were driving so fast that by the
time the younger boys had called out the possibilities of some wood or
small quarry, the car had flown past, and, sooner than turn back,
Everard would say: "Oh, we'll stop somewhere else!"
By unanimous urging, however, he was at last persuaded to halt at a
picturesque little bridge in a sheltered hollow, where they had the
benefit of the sunshine and escaped the wind. A small brook wandered
below between green banks where autumn brambles still showed brown
leaves, and actually a shriveled blackberry or two remained. There was
a patch of grass by the roadside, and here Everard put the car, to be out
of reach of passing traffic, while its occupants spread the rugs on the
low wall of the bridge, and began to unpack their picnic baskets. Cook
had certainly done her best for them: there were ham sandwiches and
pieces of cold pie, and jam