“Hello, people!” cried a jolly voice.
There in the doorway stood a most engaging young fellow--a real human
being, thought Emily, a creature warm and happy, and able to smile.
Smile he did, and directly at Emily.
“Cecil!” said Mrs. Lanier. “Denis’s wife, you know.”
He went over to her gladly, and took her cold little hand in a cordial
grasp.
“Clever of Denis!” he observed. “Very!”
She looked up at him, half incredulous, but in his face there was no
mockery, no disdain--nothing but a very frank approbation. She _knew_
that he thought her pretty. In the bright glow of his admiration her
prettiness seemed suddenly to come to life again, her frozen heart beat
faster, and color rose in her cheeks. A friend had come!
What is more, Cecil was a powerful friend. He had a cheerful,
domineering sort of way with his mother and sister, and it was obvious
that they idolized him. He said that Emily was chilly, and that the
window was to be closed and the heat turned on. They suffered terribly,
but did not complain. He consulted Emily about the proposed menu. He
insisted upon knowing what she really liked, and saw that she got it. He
made her talk and made her laugh, because he was so persistently
cheerful and silly, and his mother and sister looked on with an air of
patient indulgence.
Back came all her native gayety. She didn’t fear or dislike these frigid
women any more. She wasn’t a meek, scared, silly little object now; she
was the girl Denis loved, and they would have to love her, too. She felt
sure of herself, radiant, happy, no longer alien and oppressed; and
beyond all measure grateful to her new friend, her brother Cecil.