"You have not changed," said Ferlie slowly, "I suppose I have?"
This was frank coquetry and she felt a little ashamed when, with unsuspecting disregard of the fact, he said,
"Stand up again. I haven't made any of the correct remarks. Why, your skirts are as short as they were before!"
"Shorter, Silly! Fashion now decrees that one must put up one's skirts and let down one's hair on leaving school."
"I am glad they have left your hair alone."
"There was not much sense in trying to 'put up' a head, bobbed by Nature, when Art was busy bobbing all Nature's long locks. This bush will never grow beyond my shoulders, if I live to be eighty. I inherit it from Aunt B. That was why she shingled, you know."
His scrutiny came to rest on the widely set grey irises, circled by their dark golden fringe.
"No. You have not grown up," he decided. "You will probably eat all the ice-cream to-night and leave me the cutlets. We were always Jack Spratt and his wife."
She nodded gravely and he added, "Also, you will not want your wine dry."
"I am ignorant enough to have imagined, hitherto, that all wine must, of necessity, be wet. However, water out of your wash-stand carafe will do for me. I expect your tooth-glass is luxuriously patterned to be in keeping with the rest of things here."