s child! I have been a brute to her,
you know it well--" and Margaret certainly did. "A brute, a devil-fish,
what you will! and she--she has saved my life! You saw it, you heard it;
another moment, and I should have gone--" she shuddered. "I cannot speak
of it. But now, Marguerite, hear me swear!"

"Oh my!" ejaculated Peggy, in some alarm.

"Hear me swear!" repeated Rita passionately; "from this moment Peggy is
my sister. You are not jealous, no? You are also my own soul, but you
are sufficient to yourself; what do you need, piece of Northern
perfection that you are? Peggy needs me; I take her, I care for her, I
form her! so shall it be!" And once more she embraced both cousins
warmly.

Margaret's eyes filled with happy tears.

"Dear Peggy! Dear Rita!" was all she could say at first, as she returned
their embraces. Then she made them come in and sit down, and looked from
one to the other. "It is so good!" she cried. "Oh, so good! You can't
imagine, girls, how I have longed for this! It did seem so dreadful that
you should not have the pleasure of each other--but we will not speak
of that any more! No! and we will bless the black bog for bringing you
together."

But Rita shuddered again, and begged that she might never hear of the
bog again.

"Do you observe Peggy's hair?" she asked. "What do you think of it?"

The fair hair was brought smoothly up over the well-shaped head, and
wound in a pretty, fluffy Psyche knot. The effect was charming in one
way, but--

"It makes her look too grown-up," Margaret protested. "It is very
pretty, but I want her to be a little girl as long as she can. You don't
want to be a young lady yet, do you, Peggy?"

"Oh, no!" cried Peggy. "Indeed I don't! But Rita thought--"

"Rita thought!" cried that young lady, nodding her head sagely. "Rita
thought wrong, as usual, and Margaret thought right. It is too old; but
what of that? We will try another style. Ten, twenty ways of dressing
hair I know. Often and often Conchita and I have spent a whole day
dressing each other's hair, trying this effect, that effect. Ah, the
superb hair that Conchita has; it sweeps the floor,--and soft--ah, as a
bat's wool!"

A few hours ago, Peggy would have sniffed scornfully at all this; but
now she listened with interest, and something of awe, as her beautiful
cousin discoursed of braids and puffs, and told of the extraordinary
effect that might sometimes be produced by a single small curl set at
the p