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"It's on your account that I'm ashamed," she said in defence of his

accusation "I'd want ter look nice fer you"

"That's sweet of you, Amarilly; but if you really want to look nice,

don't think of your clothes It's other things Think of your hair, for

instance It's your best point, and yet you hide it under a bushel and,

worse than that, you braid it so tight I verily believe it's wired"

"I'm used to bein' teased about my red head," she replied "I don't

keer"

"It's a glorious red, Aar jeer at, and

artists like your friend and twin, Derry, rave over You're what is

called 'Titian-haired,'"

"Are you makin' fun, Mr Derry?" she asked suspiciously

"No, Amarilly; seriously, I think it the loveliest shade of hair there

is, and now I a to show you how you should wear it Unbind it,

all four of those skin-tight braids"

She obeyed him, and a loosened, thick mass of hair fell below her waist

"Glorious!" he cried fervidly "Take that comb from the top of your head