“It's as true as the piper, Frank. You know you were not a bit good-looking—too thin and whipcordy; but now you have got so much broader, and those whiskers of yours alter your face altogether. Do you know, Frank,” Teddy said, critically, “you are really an uncommonly good-looking fellow.”
“Have you got any boxing-gloves in the house, Teddy?” Frank asked, laughing; “because, if so, we will put them on after breakfast to-morrow.”
“No, thank you, Frank, I know you of old; and at any rate no boxing for me till after the wedding. There, now you are ready; let's go downstairs. Dinner will be ready in three or four minutes.”
As Frank Maynard crossed the drawing-room, he came to the rapid conclusion that Teddy's sister Sarah was a tall, handsome girl, with good features, and a happy, good-natured expression like that of her brother. Katie was short and rather plump, with large eyes, which Frank noticed, with amusement, opened a little wider in surprise as he entered. Teddy had evidently drawn his portrait in most unflattering colours, for the introduction over, Sarah's first remark was,—
“I should not have known you in the least, Mr. Maynard, by Teddy's description. You are not one bit like it; is he, Katie?”
“No,” Katie said; “not in one bit. Teddy, what did you take us in that way at all for?”
“'Pon my life, Katie, it's as true as could be. It's the whiskers have made the difference to him.”
“Nonsense, Teddy. Don't believe him, Miss Drake; he has been making fun of you on purpose. Teddy was always great at romancing.”
“Don't you mind what these young people say, Mr. Maynard; they are very rude,” Mrs. Drake said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Drake, I am pretty well able to take care of myself, and I know Teddy of old.”
When they were fairly seated at dinner, Frank had time to examine his new acquaintances more accurately. Miss Drake was something like her sister Sarah in appearance, but was more quiet and subdued. Sarah, he thought, was really very pretty, and seemed as full of spirits and fun as her brother. Kate O'Byrne was, as has been said, short and rather plump. Her hair was jet black, and her head set gracefully on to her neck. Her features were not particularly good, but her eyes were beautiful; large eyes of uncertain colour, now hazel, now grey, generally very soft and trusting in their expression, but frequently lighting up with an arch ripple of fun, and when indignant flashing out defiantly; eyes which in repose, shaded by the long black eyelashes, were soft and thoughtful, but which looked up so earnestly and straight for an answer, that he would have been a bold man who would have ventured upon an untruth to their owner. A soft, plump cheek, lips slightly parted, a pretty chin with a little double roll beneath it, a soft and very musical voice, a very small, well-shaped hand, and, as Frank afterwards noticed, tiny feet. Katie O'Byrne was not nearly so pretty, so far as prettiness went, as her cousin Sarah: hers was one of those faces which do not strike greatly at first sight, but grow gradually upon one. A face with a good deal of character and firmness; altogether, as Frank said to himself at the end of the evening, “a very loveable face.”