"And I'll tell you," said Blue, turning round with sudden earnestness and emphasis, "I think he's the handsomest young man I ever saw."
The rather odd plan Mrs. Rexford had hit on for lessening the likeness between these two, clothing each habitually in a distinctive colour, had not been carried into her choice of material for their dressing-gowns. These garments were white; and, as a stern mood of utility had guided their mother's shears, they were short and almost shapeless. The curly hair which was being brushed over them had stopped its growth, as curly hair often does, at the shoulders. In the small whitewashed room the two girls looked as much like choristers in surplices as anything might look, and their sweet oval faces had that perfect freshness of youth which is strangely akin to the look of holiness, in spite of the absolute frivolity of conduct which so often characterises young companionship.
When Blue made her earnest little assertion, she also made an earnest little dab at the air with her brush to emphasise it; and Red, letting her brush linger on her curly mop, replied with equal emphasis and the same earnest, open eyes, "Oh, so do I."
This decided, there was quiet for a minute, only the soft sound of brushing. Then Red began that pretty little twittering which bore to their laughter when in full force the same relation that the first faint chit, chit, chit of a bird bears to its full song.
"Weren't papa and mamma funny when they talked about what we should do if he spoke to us?"
She did not finish her sentence before merriment made it difficult for her to pronounce the words; and as for Blue, she was obliged to throw herself on the side of the bed.
Then again Blue sat up.
"You're to look down as you pass him, Red—like this, look!"
"That isn't right." Red said this with a little shriek of delight. "You're smiling all over your face—that won't do."
"Because I can't keep my face straight. Oh, Red, what shall we do? I know that if we ever see him after this we shall simply die."