almost--yes, I should say, quite as firm as yours, though he is a younger
man. His eyes are nice blue ones, and they are very steady. His hair
is"--she paused to reflect and tilted her head slightly, her eyes
wandering for an instant to the subject of her comment--"light brown, I
should call it. And he is beardless, as all self-respecting men should
be. I'm sure that he is an exemplary person--kind to his sisters and
aunts, very willing to sacrifice himself for others and light the candles
on his nephews' and nieces' Christmas trees."

She rested her cheek against her lightly-clasped hands and sighed deeply
to provoke a continuation of her brother's growling disdain.

The young gentleman to whom she had referred had seated himself at a
table not far distant, given an order with some particularity, and
settled himself to the reading of a newspaper which he had drawn from the
pocket of his blue serge coat. He was at once absorbed, and the presence
of the Claibornes gave him apparently not the slightest concern.

"He has a sense of humor," the girl resumed. "I saw him yesterday--"

"You're always seeing him: you ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Don't interrupt me, please. As I was saying, I saw him laughing over the
_Fliegende Blätter_."

"But that's no sign he has a sense of humor. It rather proves that he
hasn't. I'm disappointed in you, Shirley. To think that my own sister
should be able to tell the color of a wandering blackguard's eyes!"

He struck a match viciously, and his sister laughed.