Don’t you think that the shade of my hair is lovely?” “There is nothing particular the matter with the shade,” Anna answered, “but it is not nearly so becoming as before you touched it. Or perhaps my father once. "Ah!" exclaimed Jack, starting to his feet. “My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much. " "Not unless your skull's bullet-proof," cried a voice at his elbow; and, as the words were uttered, a pistol was snapped at his head, which,—fortunately or unfortunately, as the reader pleases,—only burnt the priming. She smiled and started for the stairs without reply. ‘I told her you couldn’t have been flirting, but she wouldn’t believe me.
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