"What should you call it?"
"A libel," he answered promptly. "Maiden—hair, indeed! Why, I can see some a thousand times prettier quite close by. What can you want with this? You can't see the other, but I'll tell you what it's like. It's the most beautiful brown, with gold in it, and it grows in little ripples and waves and curls, and nothing ever was half so fine before, and it catches just the edge of a ray of sunshine—oh, don't move your head!—and looks like a golden glory—"
"Dear me!" said Sissy. "Then I'm afraid it's very rough."
"—And the least bit of it is worth a cartload of this green rubbish."
"Ah! But you see it is very much harder to get."
"Of course it is," said Archie. "But exchange is no robbery, they say. Suppose I go and dig up some of this, don't you think—remembering that I am a poor sailor-boy, going to be banished from 'England, home and beauty,' and that I shall most likely be drowned on my next voyage—don't you think—"
"I think that, on your own showing, you must get me at least a cartload of the other before you have the face to finish that sentence."
"A cartload! I feel like a prince in a fairy-tale. And what would you do with it all?"
"Well, I really hardly know what I should do with it."
"There now!" said Archie. "And I could tell you in a moment what I would do with mine if you gave it me."