golden bronze on her
cheeks burned red. Clorinda flamed up at the sight.

"What hab yer done wid yer apron, chile? jes march right 'bout an' get
it ter once. Who ebber hearn bout a chile ob yer age widout apron?"

Victoria's black eyes flashed like diamonds; she drew aside, leaning
against the wall, with the grace of a bronze-figure, half-frightened out
of her wits, but defiant still. What right had Clorinda to tell about
her apron, or drive her down stairs? She cast an imploring glance at
Dolf, but he looked resolutely away.

"Come in, gemmen, out ob sight ob dis obstinit chile," cried Clorinda,
almost sweeping poor little Vic down with a flourish of her skirts.

"No," interposed gentlemanly Dolf, who had a genius for keeping out of
storms. "The gentlemen were just saying, as we came up, how much they
would like a walk towards the woods. So with your permission, Miss
Clorinda, we will leave you to the feminine duties of the toilet; though
beauty when unadorned is most adorned."

"'Cept when de gray hairs will peek out. Hi! hi! look dar!"

These audacious words were uttered by Victoria, whose pouting wrath
could no longer be restrained.

The two city gentlemen fell to examining their gloves with great
earnestness. Dolf made a hasty retreat through the door, calling on them
to follow him, and Clorinda left five handsomely defined finger-marks on
Victoria's hot cheek before she darted off to a looking-glass, and fell
into a great burst of tears over the state of her treacherous turban.

"Now," said Vic, gathering herself up from the wall, and rubbing her
cheek, down which great hot tears were leaping with passionate
violence--"Now I'se gone and done it, sure; she won't let me--"

"Vic! Vic!"

It was the treacherous voice of Dolf, who came stealing in from the
portico.

"Vic, don't be so audacious, you lovely spitfire; go this minute and
make up with her, or we've lost all chance of that new cotillion I was
learning you."

"I can't! I won't!" burst forth the pretty, bronze fury, stamping down
the mat and her apron under it. "She's a--a--she's fat cattle, thar!"

Dolf snatched the little sprite from the rug, and stopped her mouth
with--no, it wasn't with his _hand_. And I'd rather say no more about
it.

Five minutes after, Victoria went demurely in search of Clorinda, found
her sitting before the glass in utter humiliation, and protested that
the whole thing was nonsense. That she hadn't seen a gray hair, a