ecifications of
his guilt, was purely automatic and conventional; Florence often
interjected it during the course of any cousinly discussion, whatever
the subject in dispute, and she had not even glanced at Herbert's hands
to assure herself that the accusation was warranted. But, as usual, the
facts supported her; and they also supported Herbert in his immediate
mechanical retort: "So're yours!"

"Not either!" But here Florence, after instinctively placing her hands
behind her, brought forth the right one to point, and simultaneously
uttered a loud cry: "Oh, _look_ at your hands!" For now she did look at
Herbert's hands, and was amazed.

"Well, what of it?"

"They're all lumpy!" she cried, and, as her gaze rose to his cheek, her
finger followed her eyes and pointed to strange appearances there. "Look
at your _face_!"

"Well, what of it?" he demanded, his tone not entirely free from
braggadocio. "A girl can't make expairaments the way I do, because if
one of these good ole bumblebees or hornets of mine was to give 'em a
little sting, once in a while, while they was catchin' 'em and puttin'
'em in a jar, all they'd know how to do'd be to holler and run home to
their mamma. Nobody with any gumption minds a few little stings after
you put mud on 'em."

"I guess it serves you right," Florence said, "for persecutin' these
poor, poor little bugs."

Herbert became plaintive. "Look here, Florence; I do wish you'd go on
back home where you belong."

But Florence did not reply; instead she picked up the magnifying-glass,
and, gazing through it at a pickle jar of mixed beetles, caterpillars,
angleworms, and potato bugs, permitted herself to shudder. "Vile
things!" she said.

"They are not, either!" Herbert retorted hotly. "They're about the
finest insecks that you or anybody else ever saw, and you ought to be
ashamed----"

"I ought?" his cousin cried. "Well, I should think you're the one ought
to be ashamed, if anybody ought! Down here in the cellar playin' with
all these vile bugs that ought to be given their liberty, or thrown
down the sewer, or somep'n!" Again, as she peered through the lens, she
shuddered. "Vile----"

"Florence," he said sternly, "you lay down that magnifying-glass."

"Why?"

"Because you don't know how to handle it. A magnifying-glass has got to
be handled in just the right way, and you couldn't learn if you tried a
thousand years. That's a mighty fine magnifying-glass, and I don't
intend to