'Why, Ted, this is hair!' cried Stella, after examining the net closely, and touching the plaited strands, which had still a dull gloss.
'Yes—a woman's hair.'
'Ah! only a woman's hair. How strangely wicked this shoe begins to look! Not a scrap of difference between the heel and the toes—and yet one could tell it is meant for a shoe; and it looks as if it would keep well on the foot. Let me see how it would look.'
Stella quickly slipped off her own shoe and put on the aboriginal one.
'Put it off! put it off! I can't bear to see it on you,' cried the young man vehemently.
But the girl merely laughed, and walked a few steps, and found that this curious covering for the foot, though much too large, yet clung to it with strange tenacity.
'Do you know that it is the most unlucky thing you could do?' said the young man quite gravely.
'Really!' said Stella, smiling at the sombre tone of conviction in which he spoke. 'Well, give me my own shoe, Ted. No—I can put it on.'
Ritchie half reluctantly returned the pretty little bronze shoe with its silver buckle and dainty bow, and then took up the aboriginal one.
'Now, do you know what this is called, and what it is used for?' he said, holding it at full length on his outspread palm.