Pshaw! I wasn't a bit embarrassed. I was just as much at my ease! And
then he asked me to let him hold the shaving down with his foot, while
I went on with my poking. And I said yes he might----"

"What a bold girl! You said he might hold a shaving down for you?"

"And then--and then----" continued Irene, lifting her eyes absently,
and losing herself in the beatific recollection, "and then----Oh yes!
Then I asked him if he didn't like the smell of pine shavings. And
then he picked it up, and said it smelt like a flower. And then he
asked if he might offer it to me--just for a joke, you know. And I
took it, and stuck it in my belt. And we had such a laugh! We got into
a regular gale. And O Pen, what do you suppose he meant by it?" She
suddenly caught herself to her sister's breast, and hid her burning
face on her shoulder.

"Well, there used to be a book about the language of flowers. But I
never knew much about the language of shavings, and I can't say
exactly----"

"Oh, don't--DON'T, Pen!" and here Irene gave over laughing, and began
to sob in her sister's arms.

"Why, 'Rene!" cried the elder girl.

"You KNOW he didn't mean anything. He doesn't care a bit about me. He
hates me! He despises me! Oh, what shall I do?"

A trouble passed over the face of the sister as she silently comforted
the child in her arms; then the drolling light came back into her eyes.
"Well, 'Rene, YOU haven't got to do ANYthing. That's one advantage
girls have got--if it IS an advantage. I'm not always sure."

Irene's tears turned to laughing again. When she lifted her head it
was to look into the mirror confronting them, where her beauty showed
all the more brilliant for the shower that had passed over it. She
seemed to gather courage from the sight.

"It must be awful to have to DO," she said, smiling into her own face.
"I don't see how they ever can."

"Some of 'em can't--especially when there's such a tearing beauty
around."

"Oh, pshaw, Pen! you know that isn't so. You've got a real pretty
mouth, Pen," she added thoughtfully, surveying the feature in the
glass, and then pouting her own lips for the sake of that effect on
them.

"It's a useful mouth," Penelope admitted; "I don't believe I could get
along without it now, I've had it so long."

"It's got such a funny expression--just the mate of the look in your
eyes; as if you were just going to say something ridiculous. He said,
the very first time he saw you,