More about Pixie | Page 9

invited me to come to see you some day, but I've a dislike to waiting, if there's a good thing in prospect, so I asked if I might come at once, and here I am! I'm so glad you wanted to see me. I have watched you from my window, ever since you first sat up in your pretty red jacket."
"And you looked up and smiled at me! I have watched you too, and wanted to know you so badly. I've been ill for months, it seems like years, and was so surprised to see that your house was taken. You can't think how strange it is to creep back to life, and see how everything has gone on while you have lain still. It's conceited, of course, to expect a revolution of nature, just because you are out of things yourself, but I didn't seem able to help it."
"I'm like that myself!" said the pretty girl pleasantly. There was a soft gurgle in her voice as of laughter barely repressed, and she pronounced her i's with a faint broadening of accent, which was altogether quaint and delightful.
Sylvia mentally repeated the phrase as it sounded in her ears, "Oi'm like that meself!" and came to an instant conclusion. "Irish! She's Irish. I'm glad of that. I like Irish people." She smiled for pure pleasure, and the visitor stretched out a hand impulsively, and grasped the thin fingers lying on the counterpane.
"You poor creature, I'm grieved for you! Tell me, is your name Beatrice? I'm dying to know, for we had a discussion about it at home, and I said I was sure it was Beatrice. I always imagine a Beatrice dark like you, with brown eyes and arched eyebrows."
"I don't! The only Beatrice I know is quite fair and fluffy. No, I am not Beatrice!"
"But you are not Helen! I do hope you are not Helen. The boys guessed that, and they would be so triumphant if they were right."
"No, I'm not Helen either. I'm Sylvia Trevor."
"'Deed, you are, then! It's an elegant name. I never knew anyone living by it before, and it suits you, too. I like it immensely. Did you,"--the grey eyes twinkled merrily--"did you find a nickname for me?"
Sylvia glanced at Whitey and smiled demurely.
"We called you Angelina. Oh, we didn't think that was really your name, but we called you by it because you looked so happy and er--er affectionate, and pleased with everything. And we called your husband Edwin, to match. Those are the proper names for newly-married couples, you know."
The girl stared back with wide grey eyes, her chin dropped, and she sat suddenly bolt upright in her chair.
"My what?" she gasped. "My h--" She put her hands against her cheeks, which had grown quite pink, and gurgled into the merriest, most infectious laughter. "But I'm not married at all! It's my brother. He is not Edwin, he is Jack, and I'm Bridgie--Bridget O'Shaughnessy, just a bit of a girl like yourself, and not even engaged."
Sylvia sank back in the bed with a great sigh of thanksgiving.
"What a relief! I was so jealous of that husband, for I wanted you for myself, and if you had been married you would have been too settled-down and domestic to care for me. I do hope we shall be friends. I'm an only child, and my father is abroad, and I pine to know someone of my own age."
"I know; your aunt told me. We talked about you all the time, for I had been so interested and sorry about your illness, that I had no end of questions to ask. What a dear old lady she is! I envy you having her to live with. I always think one misses so much if there is no old person in the house to help with advice and example!"
The invalid moved restlessly on her pillows, and cast a curious glance at her companion. The grey eyes were clear and honest, the sweet lips showed not the shadow of a smile; it was transparently apparent that she was in earnest.
Sylvia felt a pang of apprehension lest her new friend was about to turn out "proper," that acme of undesirable qualities to the girlish mind. If that were so, the future would be robbed of much of its charm; but the discussion of Aunt Margaret and her qualities must be deferred until a greater degree of intimacy had shown Bridgie the difficulties, as well as the advantages, of the situation. In the meantime she was longing to hear a little family history, and judiciously led the conversation in the desired direction.
"You are four young people living alone, then? for I suppose the two younger boys are brothers also. How fond they seem of you!"
"Why, of course. They dote upon