"Till the carriage accident," Celia interposed, with a flash of remembrance. "I recollect how surprised we were when he went to the Vicarage to inquire for Joy."
"I expect you'll find Joy has put your nose out of joint altogether," Lulu told Celia, with her customary candour.
"I shall not mind that," Celia returned, really meaning what she said.
Her brother looked at her again. She was quite like the old Celia, he thought; her manner was not so assured, and she seemed far less wrapped up in herself. Lulu, to outward appearances, had not much altered, except that there was nothing noticeable in her dress now; she talked almost incessantly during the journey, and at the few stations at which they stopped, found great amusement in watching the busy crowds on the platforms. They had lunch in the train, and were exceedingly merry over their meal, so that the other travellers in the compartment watched them with indulgent smiles, quite realizing the situation that they were going home for the holidays.
"Mother wrote and told me what good reports she had had of your work at school," Celia remarked to Eric; "she was pleased, and I am so very glad!"
"Celia's been working hard, too," said Lulu; "she's a much more promising pupil than I am."
"How's that?" Eric inquired, amused at Lulu's frankness.
"Oh, everyone says she's better able to concentrate her thoughts than I am. I'm feather-brained, you know. My mind's 'positively erratic,' so our arithmetic teacher declares. I'm dunce at arithmetic, and that's a fact."
"But I daresay if you're a dunce at arithmetic you're sharp at other things," Eric suggested, politely.
"Lulu doesn't do herself justice," Celia declared with a smile at her friend; "she knows more about English history than any other girl in the school."