It was an awkward question to answer. He could not tell her that whereas she had been shabby and ashamed of being seen in her mother’s modest home a few months ago, now she was resplendent in expensive clothes, and evidently as far removed as possible from the pinch of poverty.
“I mean,” he said diplomatically, “that from what I saw of you I am sure you would not have failed to find some opening for your energies, and” he dared to add, with a sly glance of admiration, “to judge by what I see, you have succeeded.”
The blush faded from Miss Davison’s face and gave place to a demure and flickering smile.
“We have had a little luck at last,” she said. “That’s all. It’s nothing to do with me.”
At that moment an elderly lady of distinguished appearance, who appeared to be acting as chaperon to the two girls, came up to them from the seat in the middle of the room, where she had been doing her inspection of the pictures—and the people—without fatigue. Miss Davison had to turn to talk to her, but she did not introduce him. So he fell back upon the younger sister, who was full of excitement and happiness over her holiday.
“Don’t you find looking at pictures tiring?” asked he, for want of something better to say.
“Oh, no. You see this is a great treat for me, to come out with Rachel; so nothing bores me, as it might anyone who could do this sort of thing whenever he liked.”
“You are very fond of your sister, I can see.”
The girl’s face beamed with affection as she answered—
“I adore Rachel. She’s so wonderfully clever and energetic, and good to us. Do you know that she has changed everything for mamma and me, by her cleverness and her hard work?”