Archie made his absurd entry. He had a dressing-gown on, perhaps some sort of abbreviated bathing-dress, and canvas-shoes.
"I didn't dress," he said, "for where's the use of dressing if you are going to undress again almost immediately?"
"Aren't you going to work this morning?" asked Jessie.
"No. This one day, as Mr. Wordsworth said, we'll give to idleness. I'm going to bathe all the morning instead of half the morning. I want a holiday. I think I'm overworked. What's happening in that foolish England, if you've read the papers?"
"I haven't," said she.
Suddenly his face changed; he began to talk the secret language, which Jessie understood and Helena counterfeited.
"And what other news?" he asked. "You had a letter from somebody."
Jessie pretended not to understand what she knew so well.
"Yes, I did have a letter," she said, determined that Archie should be more direct than this.
"From Helena or mother?" he said carelessly. "I haven't heard from either of them, except that telegram to say they had got home safely."
He was talking the secret language still; the very carelessness of his tone betrayed it.
"I heard from them both," she said. "The letter was from Helena, and there was an enclosure from Cousin Marion."
Archie said nothing in answer to this, but it seemed to the girl that his silence was just as eloquent in the language without words. Eventually he remarked that Harry was very late, and Jessie knew that he had beaten her. He always did, just because he had nothing, with regard to her, at stake.
