“I will! ... Run and bring your books. We won’t venture into the dining-room, for the boys make such a noise that one can’t hear one’s own voice.”
There was something very sweet in the absolute surrender of self-will, and Trix, who was the most warm-hearted of mortals, promptly bounded up from her stool and flung her arms round her sister’s neck.
“You duck—you angel! You shall nag at me as much as ever you like, and I’ll never be cheeky again. It’s brickish of you to worry about me at all; but I’ll always be a fright, so what’s the use? You are pretty enough for the family, Ruth. Ella Bruce’s brother watches behind the curtains every Sunday to see you pass, and he says you are the prettiest girl he knows, and are always so nicely dressed!”
“Poor, deluded mortal; may he be forgiven for his blindness! I’m the shabbiest creature in the parish! It’s very nice of him to watch; but I wish he would come out from behind the curtains and let me see him. I have not so many admirers that I can afford to have them hidden from view. What is he like, Trix; handsome?”
“Oh, well enough! Ella thinks him a model, but he is too thin and lanky for my taste. He is not half good enough for you, Ruth, anyway. You ought to marry a duke, and retrieve the fortunes of the family!”
“I’m willing, my dear. Produce him, and I promise you I will not stand in the way. I could do quite easily with being a duchess. It would be so soothing to be called ‘Your Grace,’ and a coronet is peculiarly suited to my style of beauty. I won’t have you for a bridesmaid, though, if you stoop like that. Get your book, Trix, and let us set to work. Better take advantage of my good mood while it lasts.”
Trix departed obediently, and returned with a pile of books, which she dropped upon the table with a bang, which made the other occupants of the room start in their seats, and for the next hour the two girls wrestled with the difficulties of an advanced Brachet exercise. Truth to tell, Ruth was not much more expert than Trix herself; but she was infinitely more exact, and, by dint of hunting up back rules, and making endless references to the irregular verbs, the result achieved was fairly correct.
It was ten o’clock. Betty and the three boys had departed to bed; Mollie still sat gloating over her novel, with a forefinger thrust into either ear to shut out the sound of the disturbing discussion on moods and tenses. Trix collected her books with a sigh, and prepared to go upstairs in her turn. She looked white and tired, and the freckles on her nose seemed darker and more conspicuous than ever.
“Good-night, old Ruth! Thanks, most awfully! I’ll do as much for you some day.”
“Good-night, young Trix! Mind you do. I shall remind you when the time comes.”