"Mother!—Mother ... Where are you, Mother?"
She slipped the cheque book in the drawer with the open letter and turned the key, her cheeks flushed, her head high. She did not need Jill's advice!
"Here I am——" she went to the stairs and the girl raced up, two steps at a time.
"Oh, Mother—I've got such a lot to tell you—it's been such a lovely day!"
Impulsively her arms went out, seizing the slight, waiting figure in a childish hug, her fresh mouth pressed upon her mother's cheek.
"There!—I'm feeling so happy. I got 'Excellent' for Ancient History and I'm top at Algebra this week. And Judy Severn's giving a party—and she wants me to come and bring a man. Peter's away, but I thought, perhaps, I'd ask Mr. Bethune—what do you think? It's on the 9th. A real dance." Madly she waltzed her mother round.
"Stop, Jill!" Mrs. Uniacke laughed—the girl's gaiety was infectious. She dropped breathless into a chair, Jill on her knees by her side.
"Isn't it ripping?" She pulled off her cap and threw it neatly on the bed, her dark, ruffled hair like a cloud round her excited, pretty face.
"Jill—your hat!" Her mother frowned.
"Well, it's so old—it can't hurt—and rabbit skin!"