“Quite well,” replied the boy. “We are going to have charades to-night, and I am to be the doctor in one. It is rather a difficult part, and I hope I shall do it right. I never played in a charade before. That little monkey Evelyn is to be the patient. I do hope she will behave properly and not spoil everything. She is such an extraordinary child! And of course she ought to have had quite one of the most unimportant parts, but she would not hear of it. I wish you were going to play in the charade, Sylvia.”
“I have often played in charades,” said Sylvia, with a quick sigh.
“Have you? How strange! You seem to have done everything.”
“I have done most things that girls of my age have done.”
Arthur looked at her with curiosity. There was—he could not help noticing it, and he blushed very vividly as he did see—a very roughly executed patch on the side of her shoe. On the other shoe, too, the toes were worn white. They were shabby shoes, although the little feet they encased were neat enough, with high insteps and narrow, tapering toes. Sylvia knew quite well what was passing in Arthur’s mind. After a moment she spoke.
“You wonder why I look poor,” she said. “Sometimes, Arthur, appearances deceive. I am not poor. It is my pleasure to wear very simple clothes, and to eat very plain food, and——”
“Not pleasure!” said Arthur. “You don’t look as if it were your pleasure. Why, Sylvia, I do believe you are hungry now!”
Poor Sylvia was groaning inwardly, so keen was her hunger.
“And I am as peckish as I can be,” said the boy, a rapid thought flashing through his mind. “The village is only a quarter of a mile from here, and I know there are tuck-shops. Why should we not go and have a lark all by ourselves? Who’s to know, and who’s to care? Will you come, Sylvia?”
“No, I cannot,” replied Sylvia; “it is impossible. Thank you very much indeed, Arthur. I am so glad to have seen you! I must go home, however, in a minute or two. I was out all day yesterday, and there is a great deal to be done.”