is a beauty, isn’t it? Let me try it on, will you? Yes, I’ve never had a ring. There, it won’t go over my knuckle-end — I thought not. Aren’t my hands red? — it’s the cold — yes, it’s too small for me. I do like it.”
George sat watching the play of the four hands in his sister’s lap, two hands moving so white and fascinating in the twilight, the other two rather red, with rather large bones, looking so nervous, almost hysterical. The ring played between the four hands, giving an occasional flash from the twilight or candlelight.
“You must congratulate me,” she said, in a very low voice, and two of us knew she spoke to him.
“Ah, yes,” said Emily, “I do.”
“And you?” she said, turning to him, who was silent. “What do you want me to say?” he asked.
“Say what you like.”
“Some time, when I’ve thought about it.”
“Cold dinners!” laughed Lettie, awaking Alice’s old sarcasm at his slowness.
“What?” he exclaimed, looking up suddenly at her taunt. She knew she was playing false; she put the ring on her finger and went across the room to Leslie, laying her arm over his shoulder, and leaning her head against him, murmuring softly to him. He, poor fellow, was delighted with her, for she did not display her fondness often.
We went in to tea. The yellow shaded lamp shone softly over the table, where Christmas roses spread wide open among some dark-coloured leaves; where the china and silver and the coloured dishes shone delightfully. We were all very gay and bright; who could be otherwise, seated round a well-laid table, with young company, and the snow outside? George felt awkward when he noticed his hands over the table, but for the rest, we enjoyed ourselves exceedingly.
The conversation veered inevitably to marriage.
“But what have you to say about it, Mr Smith?” asked little Marie.
“Nothing yet,” replied he in his peculiar grating voice. “My marriage is in the unanalysed solution of the future — when I’ve done the analysis I’ll tell you.”
“But what do you think about it —?”
“Do you remember, Lettie,” said Will Bancroft, “that little red-haired girl who was in our year at college? She has just married old Craven out of Physic’s department.”
“I wish her joy of it!” said Lettie; “Wasn’t she an old flame of yours?”
“Among the rest,” he replied, smiling. “Don’t you remember you were one of them; you had your day.”
“What a joke that was!” exclaimed Lettie. “We used to go in the arboretum at dinner-time. You lasted half one autumn. Do you remember when we gave a concert, you and I, and Frank Wishaw, in the small lecture theatre?”
“When the Prinny was such an old buck, flattering you,” continued Will. “And that night Wishaw took you to the station — sent old Gettim for a cab and saw you in, large as life — never was such a thing before. Old Wishaw won you with that cab, didn’t he?”
“Oh, how I swelled!” cried Lettie. “There were you all at the top of the steps gazing with admiration! But Frank Wishaw was not a nice fellow, though he played the violin beautifully. I never liked his eyes —”
“No,” added Will. “He didn’t last long, did he? — though long enough to oust me. We had a giddy ripping time in Coll., didn’t we?”
“It was not bad,” said Lettie. “Rather foolish. I’m afraid I wasted my three years.”
“I think,” said Leslie, smiling, “you improved the shining hours to great purpose.”
It pleased him to think what a flirt she had been, since the flirting had been harmless, and only added to the glory of his final conquest. George felt very much left out during these reminiscences.
When we had finished tea, we adjourned to the drawing-room. It was in darkness, save for the fire-light. The mistletoe had been discovered, and was being appreciated.
“Georgie, Sybil, Sybil, Georgie, come and kiss me,” cried Alice.
Will went forward to do her the honour. She ran to me, saying, “Get away, you fat fool — keep on your own preserves. Now, Georgie dear, come and kiss me, ‘cause you haven’t got nobody else but me, no y’ ‘aven’t. Do you want to run away, like Georgy-Porgy apple-pie? Shan’t cry, sure I shan’t, if you are ugly.”
She took him and kissed him on either cheek, saying softly, “You shan’t be so serious, old boy — buck up, there’s a good fellow.”
We lighted the lamp, and charades were proposed, Leslie and Lettie, Will and Madie and Alice went out to play. The first scene was an elopement to Gretna Green — with Alice a maidservant, a part that she played wonderfully well as a caricature. It was very noisy, and extremely funny. Leslie was in high spirits. It was remarkable to observe that, as he became more animated, more abundantly energetic, Lettie became quieter. The second scene, which they were playing as excited melodrama, she turned into small tragedy with her bitterness. They went out, and Lettie blew us kisses from the doorway.
“Doesn’t she act well?” exclaimed Marie, speaking to Tom.
“Quite realistic,” said he.
“She could always play a part well,” said Mother.
“I should think,” said Emily, “she could take a role in life and play up to it.”
“I believe she could,” Mother answered. “There would only be intervals when she would see herself in a mirror acting.”
“And what then?” said Marie.
“She would feel desperate, and wait till the fit passed off,” replied my mother, smiling significantly.
The players came in again. Lettie kept her part subordinate. Leslie played with brilliance; it was rather startling how he excelled. The applause was loud — but we could not guess the word. Then they laughed, and told us. We clamoured for more.
“Do go, dear,” said Lettie to Leslie, “and I will be helping to arrange the room for the dances. I want to watch you — I am rather tired — it is so exciting — Emily will take my place.”
They went. Marie and Tom, and Mother and I played bridge in one corner. Lettie said she wanted to show George some new pictures, and they bent over a portfolio for some time. Then she bade him help her to clear the room for the dances.
“Well, you have had time to think,” she said to him.
“A short time,” he replied. “What shall I say?”
“Tell me what you’ve been thinking.”
“Well — about you —” he answered, smiling foolishly. “What about me?” she asked, venturesome.
“About you, how you were at college,” he replied.
“Oh! I had a good time. I had plenty
