"Really you have made it look very well, considering what you have to do it with. A sort of household fairy, you, Mattie; your name should be Brownie. Now we will play you are my maid. I am going to bed, and I like to have my hair brushed a long time. It is good for my nerves, and good for my hair. Will you be my maid?"
"With great pleasure," said Mattie, letting down the golden flood of Doris' silken hair. "How beautiful it is!"
"I think I am beautiful every way," said Doris, calmly.
"You are, indeed," said Mattie, without the least envy.
"Your hair will not brush straight! It is all in wavy clusters."
"You will brush it every night, and then I shall like you."
"Surely I will brush it, when you wish. But I like you in all cases," said Mattie. "And I want you to be good, dear."
"And not flirt with Earle Moray? Or other men? I'll not promise that. Flirting is my nature. I will flirt with this Earle until he puts his heart in my hands, and I will crush it up so—as I do this rosebud—and drop it—so! You watch and see how it is done, Mattie."
Tears rushed to Mattie's eyes. She hurriedly left the room.
"In love with him! Jealous! Oh, delightful! Here is something to amuse me. I thought I must surely die of dullness here, but I can flirt with the 'gentleman and poet,' and drive this preaching little puritan mad with envy, and that may fill up a year for me. Then, if the prince has not come along to woo, I shall go out somewhere to seek my fortune. Anything but stagnation. I will go where no one of the name of Brace shall follow me."