“Some of us never were,” Reggie sighed. “Charming, charming. Like the young things in Homer, what? The maidens and the princess of the white arms they fell to playing at ball. Charming—especially that one. Yes. Which did you say was Alice?”
“That is Miss Warenne.” Miss Lomas pointed with her sunshade to two girls arm in arm. One was a tall creature, a woman already in body and stately, with a fine, bold face, and red-brown hair that glowed.
“Why, she’s a goddess!” Reggie said.
“Oh, dear, no,” said Miss Lomas. “That’s Hilda Crowland. Alice is the little one.”
“Let’s go and look at the basket ball,” Reggie suggested, and to do that walked across the field on a line which brought them for a moment face to face with little Alice Warenne. She was a tiny creature, and had appropriately a round baby face. She was dark and plump and dimpled. But although her hair was not yet up, she need not have been younger than her magnificent companion.
Reggie Fortune’s interest in basket ball was soon exhausted. They went back across the field at an angle which brought them again face to face with Alice Warenne and her imposing friend, and while they passed, Reggie (rather loudly) was asking Miss Lomas questions about the school games and the school time-table. As soon as they were out of hearing of the two girls he broke this off with a sharp, “Great friends are they, those two?”
“They are always together,” Miss Lomas admitted.
“And who is the magnificent creature?”
“Hilda Crowland? Why, she’s been with me for years.”
“And she’s the bosom friend of this girl, who’s only been here a couple of months!”