“I don’t think I thought much about her in anyway,” replied Arthur, with that air of masculine superiority which never failed to rouse his sister’s ire. “She seems a nice quiet sort of girl.”
Peggy sniffed contemptuously, and tossed her head in the air.
“Nice quiet girl indeed! Is that your verdict? She is ch–arming, my dear, that’s what she is, and as for looks—Well, she may not be striking to the casual observer, but if you take the trouble to look at her face, it’s like a beautiful old miniature. Did you ever see anything like her eyelashes? They come half-way down her cheeks, and her eyes are the sweetest I have ever seen, except Mrs Asplin’s.”
“Eyes!” echoed Arthur vaguely. “Eyelashes! Really!—I’m afraid I have never noticed.”
“Then please notice at once. It’s time you did. Don’t let me have a bat for a brother, if you please. Some people look so much at other people that they can’t see the people who are staring them in the face!” cried Miss Peggy elegantly, whereupon Arthur suddenly discovered that it was time to dress for dinner, and hurried her upstairs to her own room.
Chapter Fourteen.
On the night of Peggy’s arrival in London, Eunice voluntarily made several remarks at the dinner-table; at breakfast next morning she took a distinct part in the conversation, and at lunch, meeting the roll of Peggy’s eyes, she laughed aloud, nor seemed the least alarmed at the unexpected sound. Some one else was startled, however, and that was no less a person than her father himself, who stared over his spectacles with an expression which Peggy found it difficult to understand, for it was both grave and glad, troubled and gratified. She wondered if he approved of this unusual liveliness on the part of his quiet daughter, but her doubts were put to rest before many hours were over. She had dressed early for the garden-party to which she was invited in the afternoon, and was wandering up and down the drawing-room, coaxing on her gloves, and examining the different pictures and photographs on the walls, when Mr Rollo entered the room, and stood regarding her earnestly.
“I want to thank you, Miss Saville,” he began at once, “for the good you have done my daughter. You have been with us only a few hours, but already I can trace a most happy effect. I have not seen her so bright and happy for many a long day. It has often pressed on my mind that the child suffered for the want of a companion of her own age, but it was difficult to find a remedy. Now, if by chance you were one of half-a-dozen daughters, we might have borrowed you from your parents, and kept you with us most of the year, but as it is, you are a ewe lamb, and I suppose no possible bribe—”