"I'm not touching it."
"No; but you do sometimes, and I won't have it."
"Yes, it seems so like Melchisedek's that I love to straighten the parting," she said demurely, as she came around to the fire. "Where is Phebe?"
"Playing with her everlasting old skeleton."
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to read, if you'd let me be," growled Allyn, with a despairing look at the book in his hand. "What do you want?"
"You."
"What do you want of me?"
"I'm so fond of you. Besides, I am tired of being alone. Don't you want me to play for you?" Cicely's eyes shone mischievously, as she made the offer.
"Not for a farm. I don't like your diddle-diddles; they haven't a particle of tune to them."