wasn't any use for it--after she'd let him run on to them officers
all he was goin' to do--nay, after SHE herself, for he had heard
her, had talked to Calvert about it, she wanted to know NOW if it
was best." He looked at the floor and the ceiling, as if expecting
the tongued and grooved planks to cry out at this crowning
enormity.

The cause of it had resumed her sad gaze at the fire. Presently,
without turning her head, she reached up her long, graceful arm,
and clasping her brother's neck, brought his face down in profile
with her own, cheek against cheek, until they looked like the
double outlines of a medallion. Then she said--to the fire:

"Jim, do you think she's pretty?"

"Who?" said Jim, albeit his color had already answered the
question.

"You know WHO. Do you like her?"

Jim here vaguely murmured to the fire that he thought her "kinder
nice," and that she dressed mighty purty. "Ye know, Mag," he said
with patronizing effusion, "you oughter get some gownds like hers."

"That wouldn't make me like her," said Maggie gravely.

"I don't know about that," said Jim politely, but with an appalling
hopelessness of tone. After a pause he added slyly, "'Pears to me
SOMEBODY ELSE thought somebody else mighty purty--eh?"