"Well, Val, we must do our best to take care of her," said Tony, "but I can't have her flirting with my boys and upsetting them. That would never do. However, it isn't as if she was one of those flaringly pretty girls that every fellow turns round to look at."
Somehow this reflection did not seem to afford much comfort to Tony. A vision of Lallie's face lifted to his as she said good-night came between him and the comfortable assurance that she, at all events, was not pretty. How soft her dark hair was!--and it smelt of violets. Poor little motherless, warm-hearted Lallie!
He saw Val comfortably settled in his basket, and went quietly up the dark staircase. He paused outside Lallie's door to listen; all was perfectly still. In another half-hour every soul in B. House was fast asleep.
CHAPTER III
Lallie woke with a start, a great bell was clanging--it seemed to her in the middle of the night--then she realised where she was, remembered that Paddy had told her the rising bell rang at seven, and turned over and went to sleep again, only to be awakened by another bell, equally loud, an hour later.
This time Lallie sat up in bed, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked about her. A long shaft of sunlight stretched across the room through the gap made by a green blind that did not exactly fit its window. The windows were open, and a gay little breeze moved the blinds gently to and fro. Miss Foster's room was large and stately and handsomely furnished; but somehow it lacked individuality: it was impossible to divine, even to make a guess at Miss Foster's characteristics from her bedroom.
"She must be a paragon of tidiness," thought Lallie; "but perhaps that's Ford. After all, the woman can't leave things about when she's away, so I won't hate her for that. I wonder what she'd say if some one showed her one of those gazing crystals and she beheld me lying here in her bed!" Lallie smiled as she pictured Miss Foster's astonishment, and perhaps some thought of the same kind occurred to Ford, who at that moment appeared bearing a breakfast tray, for she gave vent to a little sound, as she crossed the room, that might have been mistaken for a suppressed giggle had not her appearance been so severely servant-like and respectful.
"Mr. Bevan sent his kind regards, miss, and hopes as you're rested; and he says you're not to get up, but take it quietly this morning after such a long journey. Shall I pull up your blinds, miss, or would you prefer the shaded light?"
Ford shot out the words all in one breath, and deposited the tray on a little table beside the bed.
"Pull them all up, Ford. Oh, what a beautiful morning! Give Mr. Bevan my love and say I slept beautifully; and Miss Foster's bed, and Miss Foster's room, and the view from Miss Foster's windows, and everything that is hers is charming."