Old Comrades
Copyright© 2026 by Agnes Giberne
Chapter 11: Isabel’s Questioning
“DOLLY, you have not practised once for a whole week.”
“O, no more I have!”
“And there are four pairs of your stockings that want darning.”
“Now, Issy, —you dear creature—”
“Yes, you can always coax when you want something done. But mother particularly wishes you to get into the way of mending your own clothes.”
“I don’t mind patches. It’s that horrible darning that I hate.”
“Only, if mother wishes—”
“Yes, of course—” rather fretfully. “But I’ve got such a lot to do this week. Won’t you, won’t you, —just for once, Issy?”
Isabel stood looking down with puzzled eyes on the small “kitten-like” creature, lounging in the bow-window. As Mervyn had told Dorothea Tracy, Dolly Erskine was “sure to be admired.” She was so slight, and her skin was so fair, her big eyes were so blue and her little hands were so graceful, while the masses of golden hair which fell down her back and over her shoulders were so abundant, that despite the possession of a “real undeniable snub nose,” Dolly could not but be counted “pretty.” At this moment, however, the fair brow was puckered, and the rosy lips had a distinct pout.
“So much to do! Dolly!”
“Well, I have. Tennis every single afternoon this week; and—”
“But tennis is only an amusement.”
“It takes a lot of time. Dear me, I can’t live by rote and rule, Issy. I can’t do it. I’m not you or Emmeline, —don’t want to be either,” Dolly added voicelessly. “And we’re almost in October now, and this is our very last spell of anything like summer weather. Most likely I shan’t get any tennis after this week.”
“Where do you play to-day? I forget.”
“At the Park.” A quick blush dyed Dolly’s cheek, and she turned her head away, playing with the window-curtain. “I’ve promised to be there at half-past three, and it’s past two now.”
“Time enough for a little darning first. You are not going to waste a whole hour in doing nothing?”
“Reading isn’t doing nothing. Not that I was reading really,” added Dolly, who was truthful, at all events. “Issy, how you do plague!” Then she jumped up, and flung her arms round the elder sister. “Dear good Issy, do be kind this once. I can’t darn just now, —I really really can’t. I’m too excited. Please do be kind.”
“What are you so excited about?” asked Isabel, smoothing down a stray wisp of the fair hair.
“O, —why, —going to the Park—” And again there was a tell-tale blush.
“I didn’t know you were so devoted to Emmeline.”
“Dear old Em! Of course I like her—immensely. She’s a personification of all the virtues.”
“And Mervyn and Edred are both there to-day, are they not? That makes it more exciting.”
“Of course it does!” Dolly gave her head a little toss. “Tennis always wants a man or two, and we don’t abound in men down here.”
“But Edred doesn’t play tennis.”
“O yes, he does, —when he’s out on a holiday. He never has time in London, so of course it’s awfully bad play. Mervyn’s is first-rate.”
“But you don’t care for Mervyn more than Edred?” said Isabel, deluding herself with the belief that she was putting these questions to “the child” in so careless a manner as to make no impression.
“Care for Mervyn more than Edred!” repeated “the child,” with wide-open blue eyes. “Why, of course I like them both, —immensely. They are Emmeline’s brothers.”
“And you only like them—just for her sake?” inquired innocent Isabel.
Dolly shook her head. “Well, no, —I like Mervyn for the way he serves at tennis. It is so deliciously baffling. But the best fun of all is to see Edred’s face when he misses a ball, —and he always does miss, nine times in ten. He can’t laugh, you know, and he always takes everything solemnly. You’d think from the corners of his mouth that the Westminster Tower had tumbled down.”
“Ah, it is all right,” thought Isabel. “She could not laugh at them if she really cared for either. That is a relief, for certainly they mean nothing.” Dolly’s blue eyes, watching, read Isabel’s conclusion, at least in part; and the rosy lips twitched mischievously.
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