I opened them a little on hearing him speak so. He quietly took out my comb; my hair rolled down in waves below my waist; he surveyed it admiringly, with a glance in which blended the fondness of a father for his pet child and the ever-observant eye of the artist.
"A pretty little effect, so," he added, "especially with your startled look, reminding one of Cervantes' Dorothea."
"So she does!" said Miss O'Reilly, coming up from behind.
She kissed her brother, and looking at me as I rose to do up my hair, "It is like her father's," she added with a subdued sigh, "but not quite so bright."
"Why did you never write to me that Daisy was so much improved?" asked
Cornelius, perhaps to divert her thoughts.
"Because I knew you had eyes of your own to find it out," answered his sister smiling. "And now don't sit looking at the girl, as if she were a beauty; she has grown tall and has good health, that is all."
"All! is not that a great deal?"
"Of course it is; but I came to tell you breakfast is waiting, and not to talk about Daisy's looks."
We went in to breakfast; I sat opposite Cornelius and could scarcely take my eyes off his face; he could not help smiling now and then, but Miss O'Reilly chose to be in a pet about it.
"Don't be foolish, Midge! I wish, Cornelius, you would mind what I say, instead of paying so much attention to that silly girl. When do you mean to have that case opened?"