She had a pale face, a quantity of long light hair, and dreamy, sleepy eyes; the boy, on the contrary, had an alert and watchful expression; he clung to his sister, and looked in her face when she spoke.
“Do tell us what you are called,” said Polly. “We are all just dying to know. Oh! I trust, I do trust that you are really Paul and Virginia. How perfectly lovely it would be if those were your real names.”
The tall girl looked full into Polly’s eyes, a strange, sweet, wistful light filled her own, her words came out musically.
“I am Flower,” she said, “and this is David. I am thirteen years old, and David is eight. Father sent us away because after mother died there was no one to take care of us.”
A sigh of intense interest and sympathy fell from the lips of all the young Maybrights.
“Come upstairs, Flower; we know quite well how to be sorry for you,” said Helen.
She took the strange girl’s hand, and led her up the broad staircase.
“I’ll stay below,” said David. “I’m not the least tired, and my hands don’t want washing. Who’s the jolliest here? Couldn’t we have a game of ball? I haven’t played ball since I left Ballarat. Flower wouldn’t let me. She said I might when I came here. She spoke about coming here all the time, and she always wanted to see your mother. She cried the whole of last night because your mother was dead. Now has nobody got a ball, and won’t the jolliest begin?”
“I’ll play with you, David,” said Polly. “Now catch; there! once, twice, thrice. Aren’t you starving? I want my tea, if you don’t.”
“Flower said I wasn’t to ask for anything to eat now that your mother is dead,” responded David. “She said it wasn’t likely we’d stay, but that while we did I was to be on my good behavior. I hate being on my good behavior; but Flower’s an awful mistress. Yes, of course, I’m starving.”