“Arthur! . . . I hope it was a nice one. Did—did you have to send it to the wash?”
“Oh, no,” he reassured her.
They laughed, and the strain was over. Perhaps—who can say?—an experienced courtier might have achieved less. Henceforward Cicely beheld Wilverley in a more romantic light.
“When I try again,” he said shyly, “I shall show you the hanky.”
“I am like my hankies,” Cicely replied, “more ornamental than useful.”
Soon afterwards she went upstairs to the room which she was to share with Miss Tiddle. As she put on her uniform she thought to herself:
“I wonder what Tiddy will think of him.”
CHAPTER V
TIDDY APPEARS
I
Tiddy can best be described by the word “éveillée,” which cannot be translated exactly into English. “Alert” comes near it. “Wideawake” is not wide of the mark. Sir Nathaniel Tiddle’s daughter possessed shrewd brains, but little beauty. Being well aware of this, she made the most of what was likely to challenge interest and admiration. She cocked a pert little head at an unusual angle and flaunted short, crisp curls, which she shook in the face of Authority. The curls remained curly even after immersion in sea-water. Shampooed they became irrepressibly alive. Tiddy reckoned her curls to be a great asset. She awarded second place to her eyes, large, round, saucer-eyes, neither grey nor green nor blue, something of all three, fringed by short, thick, dark lashes, very provocative, and even more interrogative. They seemed to say: “I want to know everything about everybody.” Of her complexion (which was sallow), of her nose (which was pug), of her large mouth, let us say no more. Her teeth were small, white and even. Her figure lent itself to all vagaries of fashion, being slender but not thin. She could pass as a jolly boy without fear of her sex being detected. And she had in full measure a boy’s agility and lissomness.