"Yes, sir. Miss Walton's a young lady and as pretty as--as--" Zephania's
words failed her and she looked about apparently in search of a simile.

"Now let's see what you call pretty," said Wade. "What color is her
hair?"

"It's brown."

"Oh, well, brown hair isn't uncommon."

"No, sir, but hers is kind of wavy and light and I don't believe she
ever has to curl it."

"You don't tell me! And her eyes, now? I suppose they're brown too?"

"Blue, sir. She has beautiful eyes, Mr. Herring, just heavenly!
Sometimes I think I'd just give almost anything if my eyes were like
hers."

"Really? But you seem to have a very good pair of your own. Don't
trouble you, do they?"

"They're black," said Zephania, cheerfully. "Black eyes aren't pretty."

"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as that," murmured Wade, politely.

"No, sir, but Miss Walton's are just as blue as--as the sky up there
between those two little white clouds. She's awfully pretty, Mr.
Herring."