“It’s for mother,” said Pat slowly. Mother was away for a visit at Glenwood. “I suppose we’d better open it. It may be something requiring prompt attention.”

Judy handed Pat the paring knife. She had a presentiment that the letter should not be torn open like an ordinary epistle. Pat slit the envelope, took out the letter…likewise crested…and glanced over it. She turned red…she turned pale…she stared at the others in silence.

“What is it?” whispered Cuddles. “Quick…I’ve got such a queer prickly feeling in my spine.”

“It’s from the Countess of Medchester,” said Pat in a hollow voice. “She says she promised Lady Gresham she would see her cousins before she returned to England…she’s coming to Charlottetown to visit friends and she wants to come out here…here…next Saturday. Saturday!”

Poor Pat repeated the word as if Saturday meant the end of the world.

For a moment nobody spoke…could speak. Even Tillytuck seemed to have passed into a state of coma. In the silence Gentleman Tom reached over and dug a claw into his leg but Tillytuck did not even wince.

Cuddles was the first to recover.

“Have the Countess of Medchester here,” she gasped. “We can’t.”

But Judy had got her second wind. She was an expert in dealing with situations without precedent.

“Oh, oh, mebbe we can’t…but we will. What’s a countess whin all is said and done? Sure, she’ll ate and drink and wash behind her ears like inny common person. What time av day will she be here, Patsy?”

“The forenoon…she’s leaving on the night boat. That means she’ll be here for dinner, Judy!”

“She will be in a good place for the same thin, I’m telling ye. It will be a proud day for Silver Bush and no countess was iver ating a better male than we can be putting up. But ’twill take some planning, so kape up yer pecker, Patsy, and let’s be getting down to brass tacks. We’ve no time for blithering. Sure and yer countesses can’t be ating lilac blossoms.”

Pat came up gasping. She felt ashamed of herself. It was positively Binnie-like to be flabbergasted like this.