"Oh, Lorry, is that you? What are you doing sitting like Patience in a rocking chair?"
"I don't know—thinking, dreaming."
Chrystie withdrew with mutterings; could be heard moving about. Suddenly she exclaimed, "It's a glorious afternoon," and then shut a drawer with a bang. Presently two short, sharp rings sounded from the hall below and following them her voice rose high and animated:
"That's the mail. I'll go and see if there's anything exciting."
Lorry heard her turbulent descent of the stairs and came back to a realization of her environment. In a few minutes Chrystie was in her room again, a little breathless from her race up the long flight.
"There're only two letters," she called. "One for you and one for me."
Lorry was not interested in letters and made no response, and after a pause heard her sister's voice, raised in the same vivacious note:
"Mine's from Lilly Barlow. She wants me to come down on Tuesday and stay over till Friday. They're having a dance."
"A dance—oh, that'll be lovely. When is it to be?"
"Tuesday night. I'm to go down on the evening train and they'll meet me with the motor."