Her profile was turned to Tom, and he saw a sweet, little,
merry face, with a nose a trifle tip-tilted, and a cheek the colour
of a damask rose.
It seemed as though the opening of the door had been heard, for the
maid exclaimed in a merry voice:
"O father dear, I do love your picture of Absalom and David! I
think the king's great periwig is most beautifully depicted. But I
would like a companion picture on the other side--the mule running
away with Absalom, and the periwig left hanging on the tree!"
Then turning full round a laughing rosy face and a pair of roguish
hazel eyes, the maid suddenly found herself face to face with this
very fine young gentleman, and in a moment the smile died away,
although there was no displeasure in the glance of curiosity and
admiration which she bestowed upon him.
Tom made his best bow, and the maiden dropped him a pretty
courtesy, saying with frank fearlessness:
"You are surely my father's lodger, of whom he spoke to me. I crave
your pardon for not sooner seeing you. But I knew not that you were
in the house, and thought it must needs be my father at the door."
Tom advanced and stood beside her in the window. The pair regarded
each other with a frank and friendly curiosity.
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