Sisters Three | Page 7

as I promised!"
"I don't want your old toffee. I can buy toffee in the village if I want it,"
retorted Raymond cheerfully. "Besides, I'm going out to toboggan with
Bob, and I shan't be home until dark. You girls will have to go and
amuse Freer. He is up, and wants something to do. I'm not going to stay
indoors on a jolly afternoon to talk to the fellow, so you'll have to do it
instead."
"Indeed, we'll do nothing of the kind; we have our work to do, and it is
bad enough to have two tiresome boys on our hands without looking
after a third. He is your friend, and if you won't amuse him, he will
have to stay by himself."
"All right! Nice, hospitable people you are! Leave him alone to be as
dull as he likes--it's no matter to me. I told him that you would look
after him, so the responsibility is off my shoulders." Raymond paused,
pointed in a meaning manner towards a curtained doorway at the end of
the room, tiptoed up to the table, and finished his reply in a tragic
whisper. "And I've settled him on the couch in the drawing-room, so
you had better not speak so loudly, because he can hear every word you

say!"
With this parting shot, Mr Raymond took his departure, banging the
door after him, while his sisters sat paralysed, staring at each other with
distended eyes.
"How awful! What must he think? We can't leave him alone after this.
Hilary, you are the eldest, go and talk to him."
"I won't--I don't know what to say. Norah, you go! Perhaps he is
musical. You can play to him on your violin!"
"Thank you, very much. I'll do nothing of the kind. Lettice, you go; you
are not shy. Talk to him prettily, and show him the photographs."
"I daren't; I am horribly shy. I wouldn't go into that room now, after
what he has heard, for fifty thousand pounds!"
"Norah, look here, if you will go and sit with him until four o'clock,
Lettice and I will finish your work between us, and we will all come
and have tea in the drawing-room, and help you out for the rest of the
afternoon!"
"Yes, Norah, we will; and I'll give you that pink ribbon for your hair.
Do, Norah! there's a good girl. You won't mind a bit after the first
moment."
"It's all very well," grumbled Norah; but she was plainly softening, and
after a moment's hesitation, she pushed back her chair and said slowly,
"All right, I'll go; but mind you are punctual with tea, for I don't
bargain to stay a moment after four o'clock." She brushed the ends of
cotton from her dress, walked across to the door, and disappeared
through the doorway with a pantomimic gesture of distaste. At the
other side she paused and stood facing the invalid in silent
embarrassment, for his cheeks were flushed, and he looked so
supremely uncomfortable that it was evident he had overheard the
loud-toned conversation which had been carried on between the brother
and sisters. Norah looked at him and saw a young fellow who looked

much older and more formidable than he had done in his
unconsciousness the night before, for his grey eyes had curious,
dilating pupils, and a faint mark on the upper lip showed where the
moustache of the future was to be. The stranger looked at Norah, and
saw a tall, slim girl, with masses of dark hair falling down her back,
heavily marked eyebrows, and a bright, sharply cut little face, which
was very attractive, if it could not strictly be called pretty.
"How do you do?" said Norah desperately. "I hope you are quite--I
mean, I hope your foot is better. I am glad you are able to get up."
"Thank you very much. It's all right so long as I lie still. It's very good
of you to let me stay here. I hope I'm not a great nuisance."
"Oh, not at all. I'm sure you are not. I'm not the eldest, you know, I'm
only the third, so I have nothing to do with the housekeeping, but there
are so many of us that one more doesn't make any difference. My name
is Norah."
"And mine is Reginald, but I am always called Rex. Please don't
trouble about me if you have anything else to do. If you would give me
a book, I'd amuse myself."
"Are you fond of reading?"
"No, I hate it--that is to say, I like it very much, of course, but I have
had so much of it for the last two years that I sometimes feel that I hate
the sight of a book. But it's