Her brother Jim--who was a dawdling,
good-natured-looking lad of about fifteen, clad in a marvellous costume
of cricketing trousers, a "blazer" of overpowering blue and yellow
stripes, and an Egyptian fez set far back on his forehead--helped her to
explore the contents of the cupboard; and very soon the three of them
were seated at a comfortable and most welcome little banquet. Indeed,
the charming little feast was almost sumptuous; insomuch that Lionel was
inclined to ask himself whether Miss Burgoyne, who was an astute young
lady, had not foreseen the possibility of this small supper-party before
leaving home in the afternoon. The ousters, for example: did Miss
Burgoyne order a dozen ousters for herself alone every evening?--for her
brother declared that he never touched, and would not touch, any such
thing. Lionel observed that his own photograph, which he had recently
given her, had been accorded the place of honor on the mantel-shelf;
another portrait of him, which she had bought, stood on the piano. But
why these trivial suspicions, when she was so kind and hospitable and
considerate? She pressed things on him; she herself filled up his
glass; she was as merry as possible, and talkative and good-humored.
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