Flaming June | Page 9

you have a look of father
about the nose! Makes me feel kinder homesick to see your nose. I'm
going to kiss it right away?"
And kiss it she did, on its thin, chilly tip, with Mason sniggering with
delight in the background, and the strange young man chuckling in the
foreground. Miss Briskett retreated hastily into the drawing-room, and
her niece followed, casting curious glances to right and to left.
"You've got a real cosy little house, Aunt Soph. It looks real
English--not a mite like our place at home. 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