Mr. George opened the door and showed the boy into the narrow wooden hall. There was a delicious smell of cooking. Jack climbed the thin, flimsy stairs, and was shown into his bedroom. A four-poster bed with a crochet quilt and frilled pillows, a mahogany chest of drawers with swivel looking-glass, a washstand with china set complete. England all over again.—Even his bag was there, and his brushes were set out for him.
He had landed!
IV
As he made his toilet, he heard a certain fluttering outside his door. He waited for it to subside, and when all seemed still, opened to go downstairs. There stood two girls, giggling and blushing, waiting arm in arm to pounce on him.
"Oh, isn't he beau!" exclaimed one of the girls, in a sort of aside. And the other broke into a high laugh.
Jack remained dumbfounded, reddening to the roots of his hair. But his dark-blue eyes lingered for a moment on the two girlish faces. They were evidently the twins. They had the same thin, soft, slightly-tanned, warm-looking faces, a little wild, and the same marked features. But the brows of one were level, and her fair hair, darkish fair, was all crisp, curly round her temples, and she looked up at you from under her level brows with queer yellow-grey eyes, shy, wild, and yet with a queer effrontery, like a wild-cat under a bush. The other had blue eyes and a bigger nose, and it was she who said, "Oh, isn't he beau!"
The one with the yellow eyes stuck out her slim hand awkwardly, gazing at him and saying:
"I suppose you're cousin Jack, Beau."
He shook hands first with one, then with the other, and could not find a word to say. The one with the yellow eyes was evidently the leader of the two.
"Tea is ready," she said, "if you're coming down."