nose and glancing at her with some interest. "It looks awfully,
doesn't it?"

"David, don't tell your mother, will you? She looks so sort of
horrified when I've been provoked. It almost makes me mad again,"
Elizabeth said, candidly.

"Materna thinks it's dreadful in you."

"Do you mind about my hair?" Elizabeth asked.

David laughed uproariously. "Why on earth should _I_ mind?
If I were a girl, you bet I'd keep my hair cut."

"Do you forgive me?" she said, in a whisper; "if you don't
forgive me, I shall die."

"Forgive you?" said David, astonished, his mouth full of candy;
"why, it's nothing to me if you cut off your hair. Only I
shouldn't think you'd want to look so like 'Sam Hill.' But I tell
you what, Elizabeth; you're too thin-skinned. What's the use of
getting mad over every little thing?"

"It wasn't so very little, to be forgotten."

"Well, yes; I suppose you were disappointed, but--"

Elizabeth's color began to rise. "Oh, I wasn't so terribly
disappointed. You needn't flatter yourself. I simply don't like
to be insulted."