"They're gray," said Pete.

Hugh was watching from eyes sunk in a nervous, pallid face. He had
come in from his traps in the midst of Sylvie's experiment.

"And she has a nice, straight, strong, short nose, and a mouth that
she holds too tight. Loosen your mouth, Bella; it might be very sweet
if you gave it a chance. And she has a sharp chin--not pretty, your
chin, but--look! If you'd soften your hair, pull it over your ears
and forehead--Why do you brush it back that way? It _must_ be
unbecoming. And, Bella, it's curly, or would be with a little freedom.
What color is your hair?"

"Gray--like my eyes," said Bella, scarlet now, and trying to draw
herself away.

"Is it really gray, Pete? Tell me the truth, if you can."

"Her hair is a very light brown," said Pete, flushed as scarlet now
as Bella; "sort of a grayish brown; you wouldn't notice any gray
hairs, hardly."

"Bella, I'm sure you don't look a day older than thirty-five. Your
skin feels smooth and young. Why do you let Hugh call you an old
woman? Poor Bella, I'm afraid you've spoiled those two boys?"

Sylvie turned suddenly and imperiously upon the men, and Bella made
her escape, not from the room, for she was too stirred, too full of
an excited suspense, to bring herself to leave. From a far corner,