[_Beginning to brush her hair._

GEORGIANA. No!

BELLA. For him?

[_Pointing at_ COLEMAN'S _photograph with her hair-brush._

GEORGIANA. Yes. [_Drawing the picture toward her._] It was a dear letter
I had from him to-night, Bella! I hope you'll have as nice a one from
Mr. Gootch to-morrow morning.

BELLA. Well, if I don't--

[_Shutting her teeth, she unconsciously pulls_ GEORGIANA'S _hair._

GEORGIANA. Oh, oh!

BELLA. Oh, I beg your pardon!

GEORGIANA. Don't take it out on me, wait till Mr. Gootch gets back!

BELLA. [_Combing._] I don't know as you're the jealous kind. Judging
from your hair you ain't. It usually goes with blonde or red, or else
crimpy, and what I dislike about red hair is the freckles--you can
almost count on 'em! You've got sort of trusting hair. But besides, Mr.
Coleman wasn't a floor walker in a shop with over a hundred lady
clerks--I think that's apt to make a gentleman flightier; and he being
_bald_, has me to a disadvantage, so to speak. I can't judge by my