"Oh, will you come back in five years? Just to see me! My hair will be
grown then and I won't have a nightcap on, and I'll try to wash off the
freckles before you come."
"No, don't," I said. "I had forgotten all about them - I think they are
very nice."
She laughed, then looking up a little archly, said: "You are saying all
that just for fun, are you not?"
"Oh no, nothing of the sort. Just look at me, and say if you do not
believe what I tell you."
"Yes, I do," she answered frankly enough, looking full in my eyes with
a great seriousness in her own.
That sudden seriousness and steady gaze; that simple, frank
declaration! Would five years leave her in that stage? I fancy not, for
at ten she would be self-conscious, and the loss would be greater than
the gain. No, I would not come back in five years to see what she was
like.
That was the end of our talk. She looked towards the wet street and her
face changed, and with a glad cry she darted out. The rain was over,
and a big man in a grey tweed coat was coming across the road to our
side. She met him half-way, and bending down he picked her up and set
her on his shoulder and marched with her into the house.
