"Oh, just a game with the boys, to charm away homesickness in the evenings. But I must introduce you to my little girl. Laline," he cried, throwing open the door of the salle-à-manger, "I have brought a visitor—Mr. Wallace Armstrong!"
Even Armstrong's clouded senses understood at once the contrast offered by this apartment to the dirty and neglected-looking salon. Here the green shutters were wide open, letting the sunlight flood the shining deal flooring, stained and polished to resemble oak, and the cheap suite of dining-room furniture, which had been beautified in the same manner. An earthenware jug, filled with poppies, marguerites, and cornflowers, stood on the mantelpiece, and a bowl of poppies on the snowy well-darned cloth laid upon the table, which article of furniture was pushed back to allow full space for the gambols of a girl, a cat, and a kitten on the uncarpeted floor.
Laline's back was turned to the two men as they entered. She was kneeling, holding a small black-and-white Persian kitten high above her head, and the sunlight from the window seemed to concentrate and shimmer in the loose masses of her abundant auburn hair, from which a restraining black ribbon had slipped on to the floor. Her dress was a long, loose blouse of dark-blue linen, yoked at the neck and wrists, and falling straight to her ankles, and her slim feet, in blue cashmere stockings, were innocent of shoes, Laline having kicked off her little high-heeled slippers in school-girl fashion, the better to enjoy her game of "romps."
Immediately in front of her sat the mother-cat, watching the struggles of her squeaking kitten with attention, but with no apparent alarm. She was a matron of ripe experience, and was well assured that her young ones would come to no harm in the hands of Laline Garth. The girl was laughing as the door opened, a happy laugh of childish gaiety, which sounded wonderfully sweet to Wallace Armstrong's ears.
"Aren't you frightened, Nell? Aren't you afraid that I shall let your silly scratching little ball of fluff fall and kill itself? Oh, you unnatural mother!"
"Laline," said the Captain again, "here is a gentleman to see us."
She sprang to her feet and faced them, still holding the kitten—a lovely over-grown child, to all appearance, a bright rose-flush mantling in her sunburnt cheeks right up to the long, brown lashes of her hazel eyes. A very, very pretty child, too tall for her short skirts, too long in the arm for her short sleeves, from which her slender brown wrists were thrust out too far. There existed no trace of likeness between the girl and her father. From her mother Laline inherited her slender limbs, her bright hair, broad brow, level eyebrows, and a certain delicate grace which distinguished her even at this half-formed period from other girls of her age. Only one detail of her face suggested that she had experienced more of life's trials than her years warranted—two little perpendicular lines between her eyebrows became clearly marked as her father presented her to this handsome, ill-dressed, unshaved young man, with the loose mouth, square jaw, and singularly-attractive blue eyes.
"Won't you shake hands with me, Miss Laline?" Wallace asked, gently. "Or am I too dirty?"
She held out her small brown hand in silence, looking straight up into his face as she did so. And at the questioning gaze of her dreamy, dark eyes Armstrong's eyes fell. It was absurd, of course, as he told himself afterwards when he recalled this incident, and due to his nerves being in a bad order, but it seemed as though this child's look conveyed a reproach.
"I had no idea, Garth, that your little girl as you called her, would be such a tall, well-grown young lady," he said, turning to Garth to hide his sudden embarrassment. "She looks quite fourteen or fifteen."