“You may take one if you can,” I said with mischievous defiance, springing off the veranda into the flower-garden. He accepted my challenge, and, being lithe as a cat, a tremendous scamper ensued. Round and round the flower-beds we ran. Uncle Jay-Jay’s beard opened in a broad smile, which ended in a loud laugh. Everard Grey’s coat-tails flew in the breeze he made, and his collar was too high for athletic purposes. I laughed too, and was lost, and we returned to the veranda—Everard in triumph, and I feeling very red and uncomfortable.
Grannie had arrived upon the scene, looking the essence of brisk respectability in a black silk gown and a white lace cap. She cast on me a glance of severe disapproval, and denounced my conduct as shameful; but uncle Jay-Jay’s eyes twinkled as he dexterously turned the subject.
“Gammon, mother! I bet you were often kissed when that youngster’s age. I bet my boots now that you can’t count the times you did the same thing yourself. Now, confess.”
Grannie’s face melted in a smile as she commenced a little anecdote, with that pathetic beginning, “When I was young.”
Aunt Helen sent me inside lest I should catch cold, and I stationed myself immediately inside the window so that I should not miss the conversation. “I should think your niece is very excitable,” Mr Grey was saying to aunt Helen.
“Oh, very.”
“Yes; I have never seen any but very highly strung temperaments have that transparent brilliance of expression.”
“She is very variable—one moment all joy, and the next the reverse.”
“She has a very striking face. I don’t know what it is that makes it so.”
“It may be her complexion,” said aunt Helen; “her skin is whiter than the fairest blonde, and her eyebrows and lashes very dark. Be very careful you do not say anything that would let her know you think her not nice looking. She broods over her appearance in such a morbid manner. It is a weak point with her, so be careful not to sting her sensitiveness in that respect.”