“It’s all right, Jack!” consoled Phil, with the superior knowledge of one who has a sister toward one who hasn’t, and therefore knoweth not the ways of woman. “It’s her clothes; but wait till she gets all dolled up; there will be a change. To talk of something else, how did you happen to strike the old inn?” and Jack, somewhat enlightened, entered upon the subject with a will, while the two girls followed in the wake of the deserter.
They found Lucile standing before the mirror, surveying herself dejectedly.
“What did you want to run away for?” charged Jessie. “Jack felt hurt, I know, even though Phil did try to explain.”
“Just look at me,” Lucile began, miserably.
“Well, look at you,” repeated Evelyn. “What’s the matter with you? Your eyes aren’t red any more—the wind took that away—and your hair always looks better when it’s rumpled——” 166
“And as for your dress,” Jessie took it up, “do you think Jack would notice what you had on? He wasn’t looking at that——”
“Well, how did I know I was beautiful with red eyes and wild hair and a dress that looks as if it were new in the seventeenth century?” cried Lucile, brought to bay.
“We’d have told you if you’d asked us,” said Jesse, fondly.
Lucile threw an arm about each of the girls and drew them before the mirror—two fair heads with a dark one in between.
“You’re great comforts, both of you. But, girls, I did think I was such a—mess!” she chuckled, happily.