vicious stamp on each separate stair as he ascended. While he was
prosecuting his search for the cloak, his sister sat in the big chair
by the fireside, her head thrown back a little against the angle
formed by the back and the side, which curves out like a great ear. I
saw Philip and Mr. Flint looking at her as the firelight climbed over
her dress and touched her cheek, and I wondered what they thought of
her.

To me, her face is one of the most interesting I have ever seen. It
evades description, and yet I feel tempted to try to describe it again
and again, and to analyze its charms for myself. It is full of
distinction, though the only really beautiful feature in it is the
brow, broad and low, from which her hair rolls back in that long, full
sweep. About her lips, there is the fulness that Leonardo gave his
Mona Lisa, and the lips have the same subtle curves, with a smile
whose meaning is often of dubious interpretation, and tempts the eyes
of her companion to return to them again and again to confirm his last
impression.

As for her character, I do not yet feel sure of it, though I have
known her for years. Dr. Cricket says he understands her perfectly.
Pshaw!

Ben says he and she agree in everything. Poor boy! The fact is, that
the girl has one of those curious natures, absolutely unmoved and
unmovable at the centre, but on the surface reflecting every one and
everything that comes in her way.

Many men have loved her. I don't think she has ever cared for any one.
The Mona Lisa smile comes over her lips when I question her about this
one or that.

"Tell me now," I said the other day, "did you never love any one?"

"Yes, and I do now."

"Excellent. At last we shall have confidences."

"And you like confidences?"

"I do--but no diversions--who is the youth?"

"I did not say it was a youth."

"Well, it is not a dotard, I trust; but who is the man?"

"I did not say it was a man."

"But you said--"

"I said I loved somebody, and that somebody is you, dear Miss
Standish. Indeed I do, and I am ready to fight a duel, if necessary,
with Dr. Cricket to prove that my affection is deeper and loftier, and
generally better worth having, than his."

What can one do with a girl like that, who winds up with a little
mocking laugh and goes off whistling?

I wish she would not whistle. It is one of those mannish tricks of
hers which give a wrong impression. Her father ought to stop it; but
he is so fond of the