"Never mind, she's getting better looking, I do declare," the Pretender added. "How's everybody?"
"Oh, just splendid—that is, they were when I was home last. I don't go every Friday, you know. When did you come? Am I to go home with you?"
"We just got here on the noon train," her brother explained, "and we swarmed up to Annie's and she gave us the dinner of our lives."
"Say, it didn't taste much like boarding-house hash, did it?" cried Mr. MacAllister fervently.
"And John Coulson's going to stand a treat for the whole family, and drive us all out to The Dale—the Kid and all. And you're to come along. Scoot and get your hat."
Elizabeth danced away down the hall to the cloakroom dizzy with joy. Examinations, mathematics, principals of High Schools, all unkind and troublesome things had vanished in a rosy mist. The old delight of getting "off with the boys," was as strong at seventeen as at ten. The boys themselves seemed to have changed their minds in the intervening years as to the advisability of allowing Lizzie to "tag after them." John's deep blue eyes, looking after her dancing figure, showed the love and pride in his sister which he was always so careful to hide, and his companion looked with somewhat the same expression and withal a little puzzled—as one who had seen something unexpected which had dazzled him.
It was but the work of a moment for Elizabeth to put on her hat and gloves. She did not linger over the correct adjustment of the former as she so often did. Miss Gordon was prone to look much in the mirror these days. It was always the fixing of a bow or a frill of lace or some other ornament that took her attention. She scarcely looked, as yet, at the shining wealth of nut-brown hair, with the golden strand through it, nor at the deep gray eyes, nor the straight line of teeth that gleamed when she laughed. Miss Gordon was not interested in these, but she could become absorbed in the arrangement of ribbon at such length that her sister, Mrs. John Coulson, sometimes worried for fear Lizzie was growing vain.
As she hurried to the main entrance where the boys stood waiting, a group of young ladies came straying out of the classroom for the afternoon recess.
"Beth Gordon!" cried the fair, plump one, making a dive at her friend. "Are you expelled or are you off for a holiday, you mean thing? Who's out there?" She craned her short neck. "Goodness, what swells! Are they waiting for you?"
"It's only our John and Stuart MacAllister, they've just got in from Toronto, and I'm going home with them."