The vicar and his wife, on hearing of the earl’s intention to be at Aspendale, at once relinquished their purpose of going thither themselves. They felt that there would be an awkwardness in meeting him in society after receiving his disobedient young wife into their house. Ida, also, for more than one reason, declined her uncle’s invitation. But to Mabel staying away upon such an occasion would have been a disappointment which the whole amount of her philosophy would not have enabled her to bear; and Augustine therefore arranged to drive over for his youngest niece early on the morning of the eventful 12th of May. “Ida, dearest,” exclaimed Mabel on the evening preceding the long-desired day, “do you know that at last, after coaxing,—such hard, such persevering coaxing,—I have really managed to get a sort of consent from Papa to my going up in the _Eaglet_! I took his arm as he was walking up and down upon the lawn, and I was so persuasive, so irresistible, I told him so much about Mr. Verdon, and how he could manage a balloon just as easily as I manage a pony,—that at last convinced—” “Or tired out,” suggested Ida,— “He said to me, with his dear kind smile, ‘I don’t forbid your going, my child, but you must ask your mother’s opinion about it.’ O Ida! I could have danced for joy! What a kiss I gave him for the permission! There never was so kind a father as he!” “But you had a condition to fulfil,” observed Ida, “which must have moderated your delight.” “Yes; I am not fond of asking any one’s opinion, above all, that of—well, don’t look so grave, dear Mentor, I won’t say anything to shock you; but to think of Papa’s calling her my _mother_! Off I flew to Mrs. Aumerle, eager as a bird on the wing. I found her in her store-room, measuring out tea and sugar, soap and candles. ‘Mrs. Aumerle,’ I cried, without waiting to get my breath, ‘Papa does not forbid my going up in the car of the _Eaglet_ with my uncle, but he desires me to ask your—’ The old horror did not even give me time to finish my sentence. ‘Mabel,’ she said, looking as prim as that poker, ‘once for all, I tell you I will never give my consent to your doing so ridiculous a thing;’ but she was overshooting her mark,” continued Mabel, laughing gaily, “papa told me to ask her _opinion_, and not her _consent_,—there’s a mighty difference between the two.” “But, Mabel, when Mrs. Aumerle positively forbids you to go—” “She’s not my mother!” cried Mabel quickly; “I’m not bound to yield obedience to her. You do not do so yourself. Did not Mrs. Aumerle tell you to have nothing more to do with the woman at the toll, and yet you gave her some tea and warm flannel the very next day!” “But, Mabel, I thought that the woman was misjudged and hardly treated, and—” “She turned out to be a hypocrite, you know; but that is nothing to the point. The question is,—whether you and I are to be lorded over by Mrs. Aumerle? whether we are forced to obey any one but our own dear father?”