The sentence sounded mixed. But Cicely seemed to understand and squeezed her cousin’s arm. These two were old friends as well as relatives. For though this was Cicely Vane’s first visit to America, Nancy Batchelder had several times been to Cicely’s home in England, the country of Nancy’s own long-ago ancestors.
“Qu’elle est chic!” murmured Gilda Bétemps.
“But how pale!” added Norma, the dark girl.
“I wish Mother would let me bob my hair,” thought Nancy, looking enviously at the newcomer’s boyish head.
“What lovely clothes!” sighed the pretty Southerner, noting every detail of hat and coat and dainty shoes. “I can’t imagine her in this rig!”
“She looks stiff and unhappy,” thought the English girl. What Nelly Sackett thought she did not say. Her lips were pursed together and she eyed the Golden Girl with keen blue eyes.
“Now, come on, girls! Go to it, Doughboy!” Nancy admonished the puppy. “One two—three!” Six girlish voices, aided by a deeper masculine trio, burst into a wild yell. “Heia, hoia! Together! Get together!”
“Bow—wow—wow!” barked Doughboy, quivering with enthusiasm.
The girl on the steamer looked first surprised then interested, as she saw six handkerchiefs waved in her direction, while a little dog bounded frantically up and down like a rubber ball. She had not expected a welcome like this. Though indeed she had not known what to expect, it was all so strange. A little color crept into her pale cheeks and she bowed her head slightly.
“Some airs!” sniffed Dick Reed. Then he disappeared into the background, where Hugh and Victor were getting the motor boat ready for passengers.