“She’d admire? But, you know, Jem, Hugh is tolerably safe; and if you came down on the Saturday we might refer to your excellences beforehand.”
“I wouldn’t say too much,” said Jem, seriously; then suddenly, “Arthur, you are a good fellow. It’s too bad of me to tell you all this—”
“Don’t!—don’t!” interposed Arthur.
“Why should I mind, Jem? It doesn’t make any difference.”
The invitation was sent and accepted by the right pair of sisters, and before they arrived Jem’s family had a very good notion of what was expected of them, and were all ready to make the visit pleasant to the young ladies. Arthur divined that Helen, at any rate, was well inclined to be pleased. She was apparently a very good girl, cultivated and intelligent, able to talk on all the subjects expected from a young lady, polite to himself and Hugh, but not particularly interested in them. She indulged in a mild but evident enthusiasm for Mrs Crichton, and made friends with Flossy over school-teaching, books, and favourite heroes; and she was very pretty and very well dressed. There was, too, a sort of good-tempered, sunny satisfaction about her, which was not without its charm, especially as the other sister was rather critical of their acquaintances, and Arthur overheard between them the following fragment:
“He goes about smoking on a Sunday afternoon.”
“But he always goes to church again in the evening, Constance.”
“And I don’t think, do you, it’s quite good style to wear that sort of coat?”
“Don’t you?”
“A gentleman should have no peculiarities.”