it might grow long and thick like our
Shenac's," said Dan, who had been with them for some time. "Think of
your hair, and look at this." And he lifted the fair curls admiringly.

Shenac Bhan laughed.

"It's an awful bother, Dan."

"But it would be a pity to lose it. What a lot of it there is!" And
the boy walked round his sister, touching it as he went.

"She never meant to do it; but after that she could not," said Shenac
Dhu, pretending to whisper.

"Our Shenac never says what she doesn't mean," said Dan hotly.

"Whatever other people's Shenacs do," said Hamish laughing.

Shenac Dhu made as if she would charge him with the great shears.

"Give them to Christie," said Shenac Bhan. "What a work to make about
nothing!"

"She does not mean to do it yet," said Shenac Dhu; but she handed the
shears to her sister.

"I don't like to do it, Shenac," said Mrs More. "Think how long it
will take to grow again; and it is beautiful hair," she added, as she
came near and passed her fingers through it.

"Nonsense, Christie, she's not in earnest," persisted Shenac Dhu.

With a quick, impatient motion, Shenac Bhan took the shears from her
cousin's hand and severed one--two--three of the bright curls from the
mass. Shenac Dhu uttered a cry.

"There! did I not tell you?" cried Dan, forgetting everything else in
his triumph over Shenac Dhu. Hamish turned and went out without a word.

"There," said Shenac Bhan; "you must do it now, Christie."

Mrs More took the great shears and began to cut without a word; and no
one spoke again till the curls lay in a shining heap at their feet.
Then Shenac Dhu drew a long breath, and said,--

"Don't say afterwards it was my fault."

"It was just your fault, Shenac Dhu, you envious, spiteful thing,"
exclaimed the indignant Dan.

"Nonsense, Cousin Shenac.--Be quiet, Dan. She had nothing to do with
it. It has been a trouble all summer, and I'm glad to be rid of it. I
only wish I could spin it, like the wool."

"What a lot of it there is!" And Shenac Dhu stooped down and lifted a
long tress or two tenderly, as if they had life.

"What will you do with it, Shenac?"

"Burn it, since I cannot make stockings of it. Put them in here." And
she held up her apron.

"Will you give your hair to me, Shenac?" asked Mrs More.

"What can you do with it?" asked Shenac in some surprise. "Surely I'll
give it to you, so that I hear no more about it." The curls were
carefully gather