The voice told him who its owner was, though it was a degree richer in quality than when he had heard it last, two years before. "Shirley Townsend!" he cried. "Miss Shirley, I mean, of course. Well, well! No wonder I---- When did you come? And you've grown up!"
"Of course I have. Has n't Nancy grown up? I 'm a year older than she, too. And I came last night--a whole month before they expected me. I was supposed to be going to stop in New York with Aunt Isabel for a month--after two long years away off in England at school! But Marian Hille's mother met her at the ship--she 's the girl who went with me, you know--and they came right along home. I could n't stand it to stop in New York, and I came with them. And you don't mean 'Miss Shirley' at all, of course--with Jane married to Murray!"
"Then you don't mean 'Mr. Peter Bell.'"
"You look terribly elderly yourself. But I knew you! The mere fact that you are not wearing the same clothes you were when I went away----"
"It was n't your clothes--except the extension on the length of them. It was--it was----"
"I understand. My hair is up. I no longer wear two big black bows behind my ears."
"Your cheeks," protested Peter. "You--the English air, I suppose----"
"No, I 'm not a pale little, frail little girl any more, thanks to miles and miles of walking. You don't look very frail, either. Are n't we delightfully frank--after staring each other out of countenance? Is Nancy at home, and Mrs. Bell?"
"They 'll be delighted to see you."
"They 'll know me, too," laughed Shirley.