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Her eyes danced, her brows arched. "Haven't you got"--she hid her smile with an embroidered handkerchief--"haven't you got your second figure upside down?" I glared, but with one look of hurt sisterliness she melted me. Then, pensive just long enough to say, "I was nineteen once," she shot me a sidelong glance so roguish that I was dumb with indignation and tried to find my mustache, forgetting I had shaved it off to stimulate it. She smiled in sweet propitiation and then came gravely to business. "Have you come from beyond the pickets?"

"No," he said, but Ned Ferry had lately restored to him, by proxy, some lost letters, with an invitation to come and see him.

"Maiden passing fair, turn away thine eyes! Turn away thine eyes ere my bosom burn,

"They're going down into the woods together!"

I laughed a gay disdain. "Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?"

"Only to take care of you whenever I had the chance. Go, now, you must!"

"Good-morning, Smith, who is your prisoner?"

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