return, gazed upon her.

"Well, Kathleen, after all," said Hanna, "it's not worth while losing
one's temper about it. Never think of it again; only to punish him, I'd
advise you, the next time you see Peety, to send it back."

"You don't suppose, Hanna, that I intended to keep it; but indeed," she
added, with a smile; "it is not worth while bein' angry about."

As the sisters stood beside each other, holding this short conversation,
it would be difficult to find any two females more strikingly dissimilar
both in figure, features, and complexion. Hanna was plain, but not
disagreeable, especially when her face became animated with good humor.
Her complexion, though not at all of a sickly hue, was of that middle
tint which is neither pale nor sallow, but holds an equivocal position
between both. Her hair was black, but dull, and without that peculiar
gloss which accompanies either the very snowy skin of a fair beauty,
or, at least, the rich brown hue of a brunette. Her figure was in no way
remarkable, and she was rather under the middle size.

Her sister, however, was a girl who deserves at our hands a more
accurate and lengthened description. Kathleen Cavanagh was considerably
above the middle size, her figure, in fact, being of the tallest; but no
earthly form could surpass it in symmetry, and that voluptuous fulness
of outline, which, when associated with a modest and youthful style of
beauty, is, of all others, the most fascinating and irresistible. The
whiteness of her unrivalled skin, and the gloss of health which shone
from it were almost dazzling. Her full bust, which literally glowed with
light and warmth, was moulded with inimitable proportion, and the masses
of rich brown hair that shaded her white and expansive forehead, added