“Run down, Kate! They’re just coming, and I’ve got to give my hair a brush.”
Frank was off again. The visitors, Mrs. Dobson and Harry, had arrived, and Kate’s hair was flying wild about her tear-stained face. She flew to the window, heard her mother on the veranda welcoming them, and her feet ached to run down, and her tongue mourned because it could not say one word to them.
“Kate, Kate! I say, why don’t you come?” came from Frank, once more at the door, and then Kate was alone.
She hastened to complete the work she had to do. Out of the very last corner of the last drawer came the wished-for ribbon; and as Kate stands there before the looking-glass combing her hair, I will tell you how she appears to me—for I have heretofore forgotten to describe Kate Hallock. You know that she is short, because the corn in June and the salt meadow grass partly concealed her from view. Well, Kate is brushing her long, fair, shining hair; and as we look at her profile, she is watching her flushed face in the glass, and wondering whether or not Harry Cornwall will know that she has been crying, and—and—would he laugh at her if he knew what she had been crying about.
Ah! Kate Hallock is laughing at herself now, to think she could have been so silly; and that laugh makes her look like herself once more, as she turns about and quickly catches with her teeth the braid of her hair, that, thus held, she may tie about it the blue ribbon.
Kate Hallock has blue, tender eyes; round, soft, brown cheeks—just such cheeks as the sun and the wind might be supposed to like to shine upon and breathe over at any time of the year; teeth small, sharp, and white—the sun and the wind never tanned Kate’s teeth; her sweet lips dance over them so constantly that you never can tell whether you are looking at the teeth or the lips when she talks or laughs.
Kate’s nose is not quite perfect; if it only were a mite smaller and straighter, Kate would be a beauty. However, Kate is the only one who ever finds time or heart to mourn over that feature of a bright, bonny, darling young face.
Now she is ready to go down (and I am sure you have not yet found out how she looks)—ready, all but the tying of her sash. That she manages by a rather awkward bow, tied in front, and finally jerked and pulled until the bow is supposed by the child to be in the back.
“You look like a guy!” was the accost Frank gave her as he passed her in the hall.
“What’s the matter, I should like to know, with Mr. Airy Castle now?” ejaculated Kate. Hearing her voice, Mrs. Hallock left her guests and went with Kate back to her own room, where, having examined the bureau drawers, which were found in order, Mrs. Hallock tied Kate’s bows anew, kissed her twice, and sent her down to entertain Mrs. Dobson and Harry.