Chapter 13

One afternoon, returning from Westbourne Grove, where she had been out to
buy flowers for the table, on coming into the hall, Fan was surprised to
hear Miss Starbrow in the dining-room talking to a stranger, with a
cheerful ring in her voice, which had not been heard for many weeks. She
was about to run upstairs to her room, when her mistress called out, "Is
that you, Fan? Come in here; I want you."

Miss Starbrow and her visitor were sitting near the window. How changed
she looked, with her cheeks so full of rich red colour, and her dark eyes
sparkling with happy, almost joyous excitement! But she did not speak
when Fan, blushing a little with shyness, advanced into the room and
stood before them, her eyes cast down in a pretty confusion. Smiling, she
watched the girl's face, then the face of her guest, her eyes bright and
mirthful glancing from one to the other. Fan, looking up, saw before her
a tall broad-shouldered young man with good features, hair almost black;
no beard, but whiskers and moustache, very dark brown; and, in strange
contrast, grey-blue eyes. Over these eyes, too light in colour to match
the hair, the eyelids drooped a little, giving to them that partially-
closed sleepy appearance which is often deceptive. Just now they were
studying the girl standing before him with very keen interest. A slender
girl, not quite sixteen years old, in a loose and broad-sleeved olive-
green dress, and yellow scarf at the neck; brown straw hat trimmed with
spring flowers; flowers also in her hand, yellow and white, and ferns, in
a great loose bunch; and her golden hair hanging in a braid on her back.
But the face must be imagined, white and delicate and indescribably
lovely in its tender natural pallor.

"Fan," said Miss Starbrow at last, and speaking with a merry smile, "this
is my brother Tom, from Manchester, you have so often heard me speak of.
Tom, this is Fan."

"Well," exclaimed Miss Starbrow, after he had shaken hands with Fan and
sat down again, "what do you think of my little girl? You have heard all
about her, and now you have seen her, and I am waiting to hear your
opinion."

"Do you remember the old days at home, Mary, when we were all together?
How you do remind me of them now!"

"Oh, bother the old days! You know how I hated them, and I--why don't you
answer my question, Tom?"

"That's just it," he returned. "It was always the same: you always wanted
an answer before the question was out of your mouth. Now, it was quite
different with the rest of us."

"Yes, you were a slow lot. Do you remember Jacob?--it always took him
fifteen minutes to say yes or no. There's an