"What do you intend doing, Cecil, this afternoon?"
"It is very unsettling, people going away," said she, serenely. No occasion to let him see the satisfaction it gave her. "Shall we go and skate at the Rink, presently?"
"Oh, ain't you sick of that place? Let us order your cutter, and look in on the Armstrongs' toboggining party?"
"Enchanting!" said Cecil, brightening. "But, dear me! it will be nearly over."
"Not if you look sharp. 'Wings' will take us there in half-an-hour; it isn't five miles to the hill. Don't forget to leave your crinoline behind."
Du Meresq rang the bell, and Cecil re-appeared in a few minutes, innocent of her "sans reflectum," and in a clinging black velveteen suit, with a golden oriole in her cap, and a scarf of the same hue knotted about her waist.
"None so dusty," said Bertie, approvingly. "You look best in daring colours, Cecil."
Personal praise from Du Meresq, however expressed, was not unwelcome to Cecil, who was sensitively alive to her want of beauty. But she answered, carelessly,—"Just a refuge for the destitute. I can't wear pale shades, or blue or green."
"No, my bright brunette; but that Satanic mixture does not misbecome you,"—and he murmured the words in "May Janet,"—
"The first town they came to there was a blue bride chamber,
He clothed her on with silk, and belted her with amber."