“Papa, you have seen her,” exclaimed Charlotte in great excitement. “And you didn’t tell us.”
“You didn’t give me time, truly and really, Charlotte.”
“And what is she like? Oh, papa, do tell me.”
“I only saw her for an instant. Her aunt sent her out of the room. She did seem to me very pretty, slight, and not very tall, with a face whose actual beauty was thrown into the shade by its extremely winning and bright and varying expression. All that, I saw, but that was all.”
“Is she fair or dark?” asked Charlotte. “You must have seen that.”
“Fair, of course. You know my beauties are always fair. That is why I am so disappointed in you, poor Gipsy,” said Mr Waldron teasingly.
But Charlotte did not laugh as she would usually have done.
“Charlotte,” said Jerry reprovingly, “of course papa’s in fun. Mamma is darker than you.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that papa’s in fun,” said Charlotte snappishly. “Besides, mamma isn’t dark, except her hair and eyes—her skin is lovelily white. There’s nothing fair about me, except my stupid light-blue eyes.”
“My blue-eyed gipsy,” said her father, using a pet name that had been hers as a baby.