“Shame? Why is it? I always liked it a lot; nice day to be born on, seems to me,” cried Cis. “The whole world glad on your birthday, and——” she checked herself.
“Does you out of a separate festa, and additional gifts,” said Rodney. “But your magnificent hair would serve for Christmas decorations; I never saw such hair, Cicely! I’m going to call you Holly; do you mind?”
“Not I!” Cis laughed delightedly. “It isn’t that kind of red, but it’s pretty flaring.”
“It is glorious; copper, gold and pure flame! Wouldn’t Titian have had a fit over it! Holly, I hate to say it, but if we’re to lunch, we’ve got to be getting back to it,” suggested Rodney.
“I am hungry,” agreed Cis. “I’ve had a fine morning; much obliged. You’ve no idea how lonely I was beginning to feel, and the girls I tried to creep up toward poked me off with icy finger tips, wouldn’t stoop to use a whole palm! Are you going to introduce me to some nice girls?”
“Want another pal already?” Rodney said reproachfully.
“Oh, no; you’re all-around satisfactory, but I do want to know girls, too. Please let me know your nicest friends,” begged Cis, laughing, but in earnest.
Rodney considered. Rapidly he passed in mental review the girls whom he knew; society girls, young matrons, some of other rank. None to whom he could compare this dewy, sweet, merry, daring, innocent Cicely, none with whom he could think of her in combination.
“I’ll look some up, Cicely,” he said. “I had a sister, but she has been gone these many years, and would have been too old for you; older than I am. We’re all right as we are for the time being, aren’t we?”
“Happy as clams!” cried Cis. “Now if I get my position, with a pal in town, and a place like that—how about it?”