It
seemed odd to have him coming to the house again, though, unless he came
to dinner, he usually spent the time playing, to Rose's accompaniment.
She had not seen him alone.
She surveyed herself in the long, gilt-framed mirror, and was well
pleased with the image of youth and beauty the mirror gave back. The
bell rang and she pinned up a stray lock carefully. It was probably
someone to see Aunt Francesca, but there was a pleasing doubt. It might
be the twins, though she had not returned their call.
Presently Allison came in, his cheeks glowing from his long walk in the
cold. "Silver Girl," he smiled, "where are the spangles, and are you
alone?"
"The spangles are upstairs waiting for candlelight," answered Isabel, as
he took her small, cool hand, "and I'm very much alone--or was."
"Where are the others?"
"Taking naps."
"I hope I haven't tired Rose out," said Allison, offering Isabel a
chair. He had unconsciously dropped the prefix of "Cousin." "We've been
working hard lately."
"Is she going with you on your tour?"
"I don't know. I wish she could go, but I haven't the heart to drag
father or Aunt Francesca along with us, and otherwise, it would be--
well, unconventional, you know.
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