“You could look fifty thousand times nicer if you took the trouble. I thought so the first time I saw you, and now I know it. Look in the glass again; would you know yourself for the same girl?”
She peered at herself, and gave a pleased little smirk just like a human being.
“It’s the enjoyment lesson, and the red cheeks—but oh, I couldn’t—I really couldn’t wear my hair like that! It looks so terribly as if I—I wanted to look nice!”
“Well, so you do, don’t you? I do, frightfully! I’d like to be perfectly lovely, and so charming that everyone adored me, and longed to be with me.”
“Ah, that’s different,” she said softly, and her eyes went shiny and she stared straight ahead at nothing, in the way people do who are thinking nice thoughts of their own which they don’t mean you to know. “To be loved is beautiful, but that is different from admiration. We love people for their gifts of mind and heart, not for their appearance.” She meandered on for quite a long time, but I really forget all she said, for I was getting tired of moralising, and wondering what excuse I could make to leave her and fly off home across the fields. Then suddenly came the sound of footsteps at the other side of the stile, and who should come jumping over just before our very faces but Will Dudley himself on his way home to lunch. He stared for a moment, hardly recognising the two hat-less, dishevelled mortals squatted on the grass, and then came forward to shake hands. The funny thing was that he came to me first, and said, “How do you do?” and then just shook hands with Rachel without ever saying a word. She didn’t say anything either, but I could see she was horribly embarrassed, thinking of her hair and the strawberry leaves, and he looked at her and looked again as if he could not understand what had happened.
I thought it would be fun to tell him all about it when we reached the cross-roads, and Rachel left us alone. I was glad she was going another way, because it’s rather a nuisance having a stranger with you when you want to talk, and I knew Mr Dudley very well by this time. He would be so amused at the idea of the enjoyment lesson. I was looking forward to our talk; but oh, dear, what horrid shocks one does get sometimes! I shall never, never forget my feelings when we got to the corner, and he held out his hand to me—me—Una Sackville, and walked calmly off with Rachel Greaves.
It was not as if he had been going in her direction; his way home was with me, so why on earth should he choose to go off with her? Are they lovers, or friends, or what? Why did he take no notice of her at first, then suddenly become so anxious for her society? It’s not that I care a scrap, but it seemed so rude! I’ve been as cross as two sticks all day. Nothing annoys me more than to be disappointed in my friends!
Eleven o’clock. I was comfortably settled in bed when I suddenly remembered resolution number two. The real reason that I am annoyed is that I am conceited enough to think I am nicer than Rachel, and to want Mr Dudley to think so too. How horrid it looks written down! I believe it will do me heaps of good to have to look at plain truths about myself in staring black and white. Perhaps Lorna is right after all, and I have a greed for admiration! I’ll turn over a new leaf and be humble from this day.