Hilda broke in upon his reflections.
"You haven't spared me much attention yet," she said. "How do you think I'm looking?"
"Now that I think of it, you're growing rather pretty; though that is what I expected."
"I'm aware of it." Hilda made him the best curtsey that space allowed. "But don't you notice that I'm looking more mature and intellectual?"
"Steady!" Wannop cautioned. "You nearly knocked the whip out of my hand. Keep that kind of thing for the ballroom—it's wasted on your brother."
"The maturity didn't strike me; but you used to show signs of intelligence now and then," Andrew answered.
"Perhaps it's better to be pretty. Cleverness is open to any one who is willing to study. But did you see any girl as nice-looking as I am while you were in Canada?"
"Even at the risk of giving offense, I can think of one—though of course beauty is largely a matter of taste."
"Ah!" exclaimed Hilda delightedly. "I had my suspicions! I suppose you mean the girl who wrote to Ethel about you?"
Andrew started and Wannop laughed.