"Boots muddy, hair all anyhow, crushed clothes—and caught in this abominable fashion," she murmured. "In fact I'm so untidy there's just a chance he may not recognise me."
She had not the slightest cause for worry. A girl may know when she looks attractive to other girls; but she seldom realises she is most fascinating to a man when her boots are muddy and her hair is all anyhow.
There came a rabbit-like scamper up the trackway, and the stampeding Teenie screamed again:
"Oh, I say—you did make me jump! Sidney! Sidney, you ass! Here she is! Here's Miss Blisland! Oh, what a lark!" shouted the child with shameless and barbaric jubilation.
"Don't talk such beastly nonsense," cried the other voice.
"It is her!" screamed the child.
"Yes, it's me," said Nellie faintly; and all three stood together, in an atmosphere of amazement and bad grammar.
"I thought, as it was such a lovely night—I mean evening—I would stroll in this direction to tell you I'm off again first thing in the morning," explained Nellie.
"This is splendid! I was just going to start for Highfield, but this is far better, as there's no old Drake to waddle about and quack. I was hanging about the road all the afternoon. This is Teenie Stanley—my cheeky young sister."
"Your sister! And your name isn't Brock at all!" cried Nellie.