Flaming June | Page 9

Is that tea? I'm just about dying for a cup of tea, and so's Mr Ross. Don't you want a cup of tea more than anything in the world, Mr Ross? I see you do by the way you look!"
She sank into an easy chair, and flashed a mischievous glance at the young man by her side. He was a tall, well-built young fellow, with the square shoulders and aggressive chin which to the English eye are the leading characteristics of American men. He had the air of being exceedingly well able to look after himself, but even his self- possession wavered before the frosty nature of his reception. He stood irresolutely, hat in hand, waiting for a repetition of Cornelia's invitation, but none came, and with an almost imperceptible shrug of the shoulders, he resigned himself to the inevitable, and announced that it was imperative that he should hasten back to the station to catch a return train to town. He proceeded, therefore, to take leave of his travelling companion, a proceeding characterised on his side by transparent regret, on hers by an equally transparent indifference.
"You'll be sure to let me know when you come home!"
"Yes, indeed! I'll write when I start, and you shall come down to meet the boat. Good-bye! You've been real kind! I'm ever so much obliged!"
"Oh, I've enjoyed it enormously. You must be sure to let me know if there is anything I can do--at any time--anywhere!" repeated the young fellow, ardently.
He bowed to Miss Briskett, who extended her hand in patronising farewell, accompanying him to the door of the room, less, it appeared, from motives of kindliness, than to satisfy herself that he had really departed.
On her return she found that her niece had taken off her hat, and was leaning back in her chair, sticking hat-pins through the crown with smiling complacence. Miss Briskett surveyed her with not unnatural curiosity, and came to the swift conclusion that she was not at all pretty, but most objectionably remarkable in appearance. The sort of girl whom people would stare at in the street; the sort of girl whom Norton would emphatically disapprove! Her hair in itself was arresting. Miss Briskett had never seen such hair. It was not red, it was not gold, it was not brown; but rather a blending of all three colours. It was, moreover, extraordinarily thick, and stood out from the head in a crisp mass, rippling into big natural waves, while behind each ear was a broad streak of a lighter shade, almost flaxen in colour. No artificial means could have produced such an effect; it was obviously the work of nature. "American nature!" Miss Briskett told herself with a sniff. A respectably brought-up English girl could never have possessed such a head! Underneath this glorious mass of hair was a pale, little face, lighted up by a pair of golden-brown eyes. The eyebrows were well- marked and remarkably flexible; the nose was thin and pointed, a youthful replica of Miss Briskett's own. The only really good feature was the mouth, and that was adorable, with coral red lips curling up at the corners; tempting, kissable lips, made for love and laughter. For the rest, it was difficult to understand how a plain blue serge gown could possibly contrive to look so smart, or how those tiniest of tiny brown boots had managed to keep so dazzlingly free from dust throughout a railway journey.
Miss Briskett sat herself down by the tea-table, and cleared her throat ominously. Her niece had not been ten minutes in the house, yet already an occasion had arisen for a serious rebuke.
"Are you engaged to that young man, may I ask, Cornelia?"
Cornelia gave a little jump upon her seat, and opened her golden eyes in a stare of amazement.
"Mussy, no! What in the land put such an idea in your head?"
"Your tone and manner, my dear, and the fact of his accompanying you all the way from town. It is not usual for young men to put themselves to so much trouble for a mere acquaintance."
"He don't think it a trouble. He loves flying around! He's a sweet thing," said Miss Cornelia, with smiling recollection, "but he's not my Chubb! I'm sorry he couldn't stay to tea, for he's real amusing when he once gets started. He'd have made you screech with laughter."
Miss Briskett looked down her nose, in her most dignified and rebuking fashion.
"I am not accustomed to `screech' about anything, and in this country, my dear, it is not considered convenable for young girls to accept the escort of a gentleman to whom they are not engaged. No English girl would think of doing such a thing!"
"They must have a middling dull time of it," retorted Cornelia, calmly, "I must teach them a