“I? A maid! I never possessed such a thing in my life,” cried Hope, laughing; at which Miss Brunette stared, looked her critically up and down, and affected to frown.
“Really? But then it doesn’t matter to you. You are one of those exasperating people who can’t help looking nice, whatever they do. I did bless you when you walked in this afternoon! If there is one thing that makes me wild, it is to have a better-looking girl than myself staying in a house. I have had it all my own way here so far, for Avice is too lazy to count, but now I shall have to play second fiddle. Men are so silly about pretty faces. Do you think I am pretty? Honestly? Yes, most people do; but, to tell you a dead secret, it is all a mistake. I am really barely good-looking, but I give an impression of prettiness by my vivacity and strict attention to business.”
Hope laughed, and the two girls chattered gaily together over the belated toilet. When it was finished Truda Bennett slid her hand through Hope’s arm in friendly confidence.
“You are a dear,” she said. “I like you. When you came in I thought you were bound to be slow and proper. I always mistrust fair girls with blue eyes. Nine times out of ten they are deadly uninteresting; but I can see you are an exception. I will try not to be jealous of you, if you will promise not to flirt with Ralph Merrilies. I’m especially interested in him; so play fair, won’t you? You may have all the others.”
“How wholesale of you! Are you sure you mean it? From what I have seen, I should imagine you would hardly be satisfied with one.”
In dealing with such a very outspoken young lady, it seemed best to reply in the same strain, but Hope marvelled inwardly at the eccentricities of human nature. Imagine—just imagine—being “interested” in somebody, and confiding the fact to a stranger the very first time one spoke to her! It would be difficult enough to speak of it even to Theo, her lifelong friend and companion; but to a stranger—it was incredible! She studied the girl’s dark face with curious eyes as they walked downstairs, while the men gathered round the fireplace below, watched them as they approached, and admired the pretty picture. They made a charming contrast—the sparkling brunette in her amber draperies, and the tall figure in the black dress, with the sweet pink-and-white face.
Directly after dinner Mrs Loftus sent Hope to the piano, and the girl sat down unaffectedly, and played several pieces in succession, to the complete satisfaction of the company, who apparently found it much more agreeable to discourse to music than without it. Mr Merrilies, indeed, did stroll across the room, to stand by her side and say “Thank you” at the conclusion, as if he meant what he said; but from a general point of view the performance was a failure, and Mrs Loftus felt disappointed. Hope had been invited with the especial intent of providing amusement for her guests, and if she failed to do so there was really no reason for her presence.
“Sing something to us, Hope,” said Mrs Loftus imperiously. “Sing some of your own songs.—Miss Charrington has composed some charming little things,” she explained to the company at large, who murmured politely in response.
“Compose? How wonderful of you! How do you manage to do it?” queried Truda eagerly, while the fair youth pulled his moustache and looked at Hope as if she were a wild animal escaped from the Zoo, and Uncle Loftus began humming what he fondly supposed to be the air of “The Song of Sleep” to his companion on the sofa.