Winnie gave the speaker's hand a little squeeze of approbation, while a pleased smile lit up Dick's face. As neither spoke, however, Edith continued: "And now, may I crave of you, Dick, a very great favour? Winnie is to be driven down to-morrow afternoon to see through your ship. May I come too? or is she to be the only privileged young lady?"
The boy looked incredulously at his pretty sister. "Are you really in earnest, Edith?" he inquired, "or are you laughing at me?"
"I mean what I say, Dick," was the grave reply; "but if you would rather I remained at home, I shall not trouble you."
"Oh, come! do come!" whispered Winnie delightedly. "Dick will be only too pleased;—will you not, dear old boy?" So it was settled; and Edith rose to leave the cosy room, which seemed to her at that moment like a haven of rest.
"It was very, very good of you to come and spend a wee quiet time with us," said Winnie, as she watched her beautiful sister shaking out her crumpled skirts and pushing back little stray locks of hair from her white forehead. "Do you know we are going to have a great treat to-morrow night? Archie Trollope is coming in; and cook has promised us a delicious supper in honour of Dick's last evening at home."
"I think you ought to give me an invitation," replied Edith, pausing at the doorway. "I should like to enjoy the feast too.—No, no," as Dick and Winnie exchanged doubtful glances; "I was only teasing you both. Accept my best wishes for a happy evening, dears. Good-night;" and then the soft silken figure glided quietly away.
"I'm glad she really did not mean what she said," announced Dick, giving a sigh of relief as he threw himself down on the rug beside Puck and commenced to tease that worthy little animal; "but I think, Win, if we had pressed her she would have come."
"I am sure of it," replied Winnie. "She looked so disappointed when we did not speak. But, Dick, was she not ever so nice to-night? and is she not beautiful?"
"Yes," replied her brother, pulling Puck's tail mischievously; "but we're a good-looking family, Win, with the exception of myself."
The little girl's reply was thoroughly characteristic: "Every house has its ugly duckling, dear boy," she observed quaintly, "and they seldom turn out swans except in story-books. However, it does not matter very much about a man's personal appearance; and you—why, you might have been a great deal worse."