" He looked at the floor and the ceiling, as if expecting
the tongued and grooved planks to cry out at this crowning
enormity.
The cause of it had resumed her sad gaze at the fire. Presently,
without turning her head, she reached up her long, graceful arm,
and clasping her brother's neck, brought his face down in profile
with her own, cheek against cheek, until they looked like the
double outlines of a medallion. Then she said--to the fire:
"Jim, do you think she's pretty?"
"Who?" said Jim, albeit his color had already answered the
question.
"You know WHO. Do you like her?"
Jim here vaguely murmured to the fire that he thought her "kinder
nice," and that she dressed mighty purty. "Ye know, Mag," he said
with patronizing effusion, "you oughter get some gownds like hers."
"That wouldn't make me like her," said Maggie gravely.
"I don't know about that," said Jim politely, but with an appalling
hopelessness of tone. After a pause he added slyly, "'Pears to me
SOMEBODY ELSE thought somebody else mighty purty--eh?"
To his discomfiture she did not solicit further information. After
a pause he continued, still more archly:
"Do you like HIM, Mag?"
"I think he's a perfect gentleman," she said calmly.
He turned his eyes quickly from the glowing fire to her face. The
cheek that had been resting against his own was as cool as the
night wind that came through the open door, and the whole face was
as fixed and tranquil as the upper stars.
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