"Oh, isn't it—awful?" shivered Daphne. "Well, is there a hair brush? I would so like to look all right when my—my stepmother comes."
"Just as though she hadn't seen you looking all kinds of wrong for weeks and weeks!" scoffed Richard. But very obediently he brought the hair brush.
"Just where do you think you'd better begin?" worried Daphne.
"I?" stammered Richard. "I?" With a wild little lunge he commenced the attack.
"My! But you're bumpy!" winced Daphne. "Don't you think that maybe it would be better to use the bristly side of the brush?"
"Oh, I say!" apologized Richard, "I am rattled!" With reconstructed acumen he resumed the task.
"Oh, that's nice," purred Daphne. "In a book I was reading there was the funniest thing—the husband in it was always brushing his wife's hair."
"How funny!" acquiesced Richard.
"Oh—awfully funny," purred Daphne. "I guess there's a good deal 231 more to this marriage-business," she observed sagely, "than some of us had supposed."
"Very likely," admitted Richard.