I felt rather cross and dissatisfied that day, I remember. Perhaps I had over-walked myself—very probably so; and now and then I caught mamma’s eyes glancing at me with a somewhat perturbed expression.
“Are you not feeling well, Regina?” she said at last, when I had answered some little question rather snappishly, I fear.
“Of course I am quite well, mother, dear,” I replied; “I am only rather cross, and I don’t know why. I would rather you would scold me than seem anxious about me! Everybody has moods. I—well, yes, perhaps I was thinking a little about that girl. It must be nice to be so graceful and charming?”
“My poor, dear child,” said mother, “don’t distress yourself so needlessly! You know very well we would rather have our tomboy than any other girl in the world, though there is no reason why you should not be graceful and charming too, in your own way. You are very young still; you have plenty of time before you; but I do feel that it would be a great help to you, now especially, to have some girl friends.”
I was beginning to feel it too, and did not repulse the suggestion, as I might have done even twenty-four hours previously.
“But it can’t be helped,” I said; “girl companions haven’t come in my way. You know there are scarcely any young people at all in our neighbourhood at home.”
“I know,” said mother regretfully, “and with our having been away so much, I seem to have rather fallen out of touch with my own old friends, some of whom have daughters of about your age. I have been thinking a great deal about it lately.”
No more was said at the time, but I still felt far from anxious to make acquaintance with the new arrivals. The very thought of it overpowered me with shyness.
Strange to say, the acquaintance was brought about by the only one of us three who had seen nothing to admire in the pretty sisters.
I think it was on the third day after they had come, that Moore burst into our room one afternoon, his face rosy with excitement.