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“Well, do it yourself, if you don’t like it,” she laughed back; and, pulling out a few hairpins, her brilliant fair hair fell all over her shoulders. With the sea-green gauzy drapery and the bright metallic cloud of hair she looked exactly like the picture of a mermaid emerging from the green wave, and there was a mischievous glance in her eyes that seemed to personate the siren’s smile to perfection.

Arthur stopped for a moment half-vexed that she had spoilt her pose. Then, taking her at her word, he silently caught up her glistening tresses, and slowly and laboriously coiled them up in a distant resemblance to the coiffure of the Diana at the Louvre. He leaned over her head, to judge of the front effect. Her eyes were half-closed; but there was a meaning dimple in each cheek that seemed to speak volumes. He bent closer still, but in the instant she had jerked herself out of reach, and, with one of her wild, childish laughs, flung away the drapery and the curtain, exclaiming in her cheerfullest tone:

“Well, I vote we do something livelier than sit here all day. What will you bet I won’t get a love set from you first thing? Come on! Who’s afraid?”