Erle certainly looked a little amused as his friend entered the room accompanied by a tall, dark girl, very plainly dressed. But his expression changed as he noticed Percy’s moody looks, and the air of extreme haughtiness observable in the manner of his companion.
Miss Davenport was evidently very much annoyed; she shook hands with Erle, without deigning to look at him, and walked straight to the fire-place.
Fern followed her. “I am so glad you have come home so early, Crystal; Fluff and I have waited tea for you, but we hardly expected you yet.”
“I am sorry you waited for me,” returned the girl, who called herself Crystal Davenport, in a constrained voice; “Mrs. Norton gave me some tea, because she said I must be tired playing with the children.”
“Come, we must be going, Erle,” interrupted Percy, sharply, “or we shall be late for dinner. Good-bye, Fern; tell my mother I am sorry to miss her. Good-evening, Miss Davenport;” but he hesitated, as though he dared not venture to offer his hand.
“Good-night, Mr. Trafford,” she returned, indifferently; but she did not turn her long neck as she spoke. And Erle contented himself with a bow.
“What is it, Crystal, dear?” asked Fern, anxiously, as the two young men left the room; but Crystal only lifted her eyebrows and glanced at Fluff, whose curly head was distinctly visible; so Fern said cheerfully, “Very well, we have our tea, and then it will be Fluff’s bed-time;” and then without another word busied herself with her simple preparations.
But it was not a festive meal. In spite of all her cheery efforts Crystal sat quite silent, with a cloud on her handsome face, and Fluff had turned sulky at the mention of her bed-time. So Fern fell to thinking of Erle’s look as he bade her good-night—how kind he had been to her that evening. Yes, she was glad they were friends, and that he cared to hear about their troubles. He was so unselfish, so different to other young men—Fern did not know a single young man except Erle, so her knowledge was not very reliable; and then, with an odd transition of thought, she wondered who Miss Selby could be, and why Percy called her la Belle Evelyn, and looked at Erle so mischievously.
But presently, when Fluff had gone off grumbling with her kitten, and all the pretty tea-things had been washed and put away in the big corner cupboard, and the kettle was silent, and only a cricket chirped on the hearth, Fern sat down beside Crystal, and put her arm affectionately round her. “Now, you can tell me what has been troubling you, darling,” she said, in a coaxing voice.
It seemed a pity that there was no one to see the two faces so close together; an artist would have sketched them as Night and Morning. Fern’s soft English fairness made a splendid foil to Crystal’s olive complexion and dark southern coloring. The girl was superbly handsome, in spite of the bitter lines round the mouth and the hard, defiant curve of the lips. As Fern spoke her dark eyes flashed angrily.