"I expect it is my clothes," Helen said calmly. "They must look queer to
you."

"They do. But nice. I've brought some new ones for you. I think you'll
soon be prettier than I am. Think of that!"

They had each other by the hand and looked admiringly in each other's
face, remembering small peculiarities they had half forgotten: there was
the soft hair on Helen's temples, trying, as Zebedee said, to curl;
there was the little tilt to Miriam's eyebrows, giving her that look of
some one not quite human, more readily moved to mischief than to
kindness, and never to be held at fault.

"Yes, it's centuries," Helen said.

"It's only a day!"

"Then you have been happy," Helen said, letting out a light sigh of
content.

"Yes, but I'm glad to be here again, so long as I needn't stay. I've
heaps to tell you." She stretched herself, like a cat. "I knew there was
fun in the world. I had faith, my dear, and I found it."

Helen was looking at her with her usual confusion of feelings: she
wanted to shake off Miriam's complacence roughly, while she was fondly
glad that she should have it, but this remark would not pass without a
word, and Helen shook her head.

"No; you didn't find it. Uncle Alfred gave it to you--he and I."

"You? Oh--yes, I suppose you did. Well--thank you very much, and don't
let us talk about it any more. You're like a drag-net, bringing up the
unpleasant. Don't let us quarrel."

"Quarrel! I couldn't," Helen said simply.

"Are you so pleased to see me?"

Helen's reluctant smile expanded. "I suppose it's that."

"Aha! It's lovely to be me! People go down like ninepins! Why?" Piously,
she appealed to Heaven. "Why?"

"They get up again, though," Helen said with a chuckle.

"For instance?" Miriam demanded truculently.

"Oh, I'm not going to be hard on you," Helen said, and though she spoke
with genuine amusement, she felt a little seed of anger germinating in
her breast. That was what George had done to her: he had made her heart
a fertile place for passions which her mind disdained.

"And I'm so glad to have you here," she added, defying harsh emotions.

"Ah! You're rather nice--and, yes, you are much prettier. How have you
done it? I should like to kiss you."

"Well, you may." She put her face close to Miriam's, and enjoyed the
coolness of that sisterly salute.

"But," Miriam said, startled by a thought, "need I kiss--her?"

"No. You won't want to do that. She isn't very nice to look at."