hymn went on. Yet I knew he had come
expecting to see me.

On the table near me stood a bunch of snowdrops that Miriam had culled
for her _beloved_ Captain Bradford. An idea struck me so suddenly that
my voice died instantly. The spirit of mischief had taken possession of
me. Laughing to myself, I caught them up, drew three long bright hairs
from my head--they looked right gold-y in the firelight--and tied them
around the flowers--I thought I should never get to the end while
wrapping them. Thus secured, a servant carried them into the parlor
with "Miss Sarah's compliments to Mr. Halsey." Poor Miriam's cry of
surprise at finding her flowers thus appropriated, reached my ears and
caused me to laugh again. It _was_ rather cool! But then it was better
fun than going down. And then didn't it flatter his vanity! O men! you
vain creatures! A woman would receive a whole bunch of hair and forty
thousand bouquets, without having her head turned; while you--Well! I
heard enough from Miriam to amuse me, at all events.

And a day or two after, Captain Bradford had a long story to tell
her--what he called a good joke on Mr. Halsey. Of how he had found him
kissing three long bright hairs in rapture, and on asking where he got
them, received as an answer--"From the God-_blessedest_ little angel
that ever wore long hair!" This _blessedest_ little angel did not
intend it as a souvenir, and is consequently annoyed about stories of
three hairs, intended as a string and nothing more, being wrapped in
tissue paper and treasured up--so goes the tale--instead of being
thrown into the fire as I certainly expected.

* * * * *

Last night Anna and Miriam sat on my bed at twilight, playing cards
while I tried my guitar, when Captain C----, Major Spratley, and
Lieutenant Dupre were announced. Quick, down went the cards as they
sprang to their feet to throw off their neat calicoes. Where was
Miriam's comb, and grenadine, and collar, and belt? Good gracious!
where was her buckle? On the bureau, mantel, washstand, or under them?
"Please move a moment, Anna!" In such a hurry, do! There was Anna,
"Wait! I'm in a hurry, too! Where is that pomatum? You Malvina! if you
don't help me, I'll--There! take that, Miss! Now fly around!" Malvina,
with a faint, dingy pink suddenly brought out on her pale sea-green
face, did fly around, while I, hushing my guitar in the tumult, watch
each running over the other, in silen