d; as different as possible from poor Maggie's
phiz, which Nature seemed to have moulded and colored with the most
decided intention. But that same Nature has the deep cunning which hides
itself under the appearance of openness, so that simple people think
they can see through her quite well, and all the while she is secretly
preparing a refutation of their confident prophecies. Under these
average boyish physiognomies that she seems to turn off by the gross,
she conceals some of her most unmodified characters; and the dark-eyed,
demonstrative, rebellious girl may after all turn out to be a passive
being compared with this pink-and-white bit of masculinity with the
indeterminate features.

"Maggie," said Tom, confidentially, taking her into a corner, as soon as
his mother was gone out to examine his box, and the warm parlor had
taken off the chill he had felt from the long drive, "you don't know
what I've got in _my_ pockets," nodding his head up and down as a means
of rousing her sense of mystery.

"No," said Maggie. "How stodgy they look, Tom! Is it marls (marbles) or
cobnuts?" Maggie's heart sank a little, because Tom always said it was
"no good" playing with _her_ at those games, she played so badly.

"Marls! no; I've swopped all my marls with the little fellows, and
cobnuts are no fun, you silly, only when the nuts are green. But see
here!" He drew something half out of his righthand pocket.

"What is it?" said Maggie, in a whisper. "I can see nothing but a bit of
yellow."

"Why, it's--a--new--guess, Maggie!"

"Oh, I _can't_ guess, Tom," said Maggie, impatiently.

"Don't be a spitfire, else I won't tell you," said Tom, thrusting his
hand back into his pocket and looking determined.

"No, Tom," said Maggie, imploringly, laying hold of the arm that was
held stiffly in the pocket. "I'm not cross, Tom; it was only because I
can't bear guessing. _Please_ be good to me."

Tom's arm slowly relaxed, and he said, "Well, then, it's a new fish
line--two new uns,--one for you, Maggie, all to yourself. And here's
hooks; see here--I say, _won't_ we go and fish to-morrow down by the
Round Pool? And you shall catch your own fish, Maggie, and put the worms
on, and everything; won't it be fun?"

Maggie's answer was to throw her arms round Tom's neck and hug him, and
hold her cheek against his without speaking, while he slowly unwound
some of the line, saying, after a pause,--

"Wasn't I a good brother, now, to buy you a